


Retribution

by ScarletRaven1001



Series: Retribution [1]
Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Vegebul - Fandom
Genre: AU, Action, Alternate Universe, Angst, Big Bang Challenge, Dragon Ball AU, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Lemon, Mafia AU, Romance, Smut, VBO, VBO Big Bang 2018, Vegebul AU, Vegebulocracy Big Bang, multi-chapter, vegebul smut is the best smut, vegebulocracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-20 16:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17026542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletRaven1001/pseuds/ScarletRaven1001
Summary: Raised in the shadows, Vegeta’s sole purpose in life was to avenge the destruction of his family. The key to his victory laid in the hands of Bulma, the daughter of the enemy, and not even the strange connection he feels with her will keep him from raining his furious retribution upon all who had dared cross his bloodline.***For the Vegebulocracy Big Bang 2018******With Cover Art by theAsh0 and Smammwich***





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to my contribution to the Vegebulocracy (VBO) Big Bang! This has been super fun (though at times rather difficult) to write and I am so excited to share this with all of you today! This story is complete, and I will be posting all chapters until the 24th of December.  
> I would like to thank the incredible, amazing [BlackSheep115](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackSheep115/pseuds/BlackSheep115) for her help as a Beta for this story, as without her help, this fic would not be anywhere near the story that it is right now! Thank you, girl! And to all of you, please check out Blacksheep's stories!  
> With that, please do let me know what you think, for this first chapter of Retribution: Book 1!

The coffee was fantastic.

He was no connoisseur – far from it, in fact – but he could definitely see that the tiny coffee shop that he had been sitting at for the past hour had the potential to become a big business if it kept making coffee this good.

The aroma of it was exquisite. The taste, liquid gold on his tongue, both soothed and kept him alert at the same time.

And Vegeta Saiyan needed to be alert, for what he was about to do.

He straightened his suit, adjusting his tie and checking his coat as he watched his target stroll leisurely up the street.

She was without a care in the world, her blue hair in a loose ponytail that flowed whimsically down her back. Her brilliant blue eyes shone like the most precious of sapphires, and her full pink lips beckoned like the petals of the rarest blossoms.

Her pale skin, vibrant even in the dying light of the twilight sun, was a clear indication of her wealthy upbringing.

Her family’s wealth… that should have been _his._

That carefree manner, and the easy life that had given her all the things her heart had desired… those should have been his.

Resentment bubbled up from the deepest pits of his hardened heart, and he straightened as he watched her take her clueless steps into the comfortable apartment building where she resided.

He seethed, his hands clutching convulsively around his coffee mug, teeth grinding in his rage and excitement.

She was probably not even aware of the fact that she had been part of the conspiracy that had brought about the destruction of his family, the horrendous murders that had taken away everything that he had known and loved.

Oh, but she will know.

If all went well, before the night gives way to the next dawn, he will begin his revenge.

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma sighed as she dropped her purse onto a small table at her apartment’s entryway, cursing slightly as the contents spilled out from its broken zipper.

She really ought to replace that bag.

But she didn’t have the will to, as it was one of the little knick knacks left behind by her mother, Panchy, after she passed away a few years ago.

 It had already been rather well-used before Bulma had received it, as Panchy had been very fond of it as well. Bulma had hinted at liking the design, and her mother had promptly gifted it to her the next day.

The yellow leather bag was starting to grow too worn for use, and if Bulma were being honest to herself, the bag really was broken already.

Yet, broken or not, the one thing that she can never let go of, was the small, handwritten note that her mother had scribbled onto the main pocket inside.

_Live well and stay beautiful, my baby girl._

Bulma had already lost so many people from her life, that she really didn’t want to start losing their mementos, as well.

She had left her home town of West City behind, as it had given her too many painful memories. To cope with her losses, she had moved to East City, where she began to work as a free contractor for rebuilding houses and infrastructure damaged by a recent earthquake that destroyed most of the downtown city proper. She received only food and transportation allowances, and was more than happy to keep it that way.

It wasn’t that she was generous… Working for next to nothing was her way of atoning for the sins that she knew that her family had been involved in for several generations.

She possessed a brilliant mind, and it did not take much for her to realize that her mother’s family, and now her own father, were involved in the workings of a crime syndicate.

Her father, Dr. Trunks Briefs, was a scientist who had occasionally dabbled in politics, under the stern and watchful influence of the West City Syndicate.

This was another reason why she had left West: To escape the syndicate. It was a convoluted group of corrupt officials and crime lords who had been in and out of the Briefs household since before the moment she had drawn her first breath.

Releasing a wide yawn, Bulma headed for her bedroom, intent on changing out of the denim jeans and simple white shirt that she had worn to work.

She was barely out of the living room when she heard her mobile phone ringing, and it took less than a moment for the ringtone to register in her mind and fire adrenaline through her veins.

It was a unique ringer tone that she had set for a private number that no one but her and her father knew about. He never used it, unless there was an absolute emergency.  

She lunged forward, tripping over her own feet in her haste, and immediately answered.

“Hello,” she greeted, breathless from the panic that now surged within her body.

“Bulma!”

He sounded stressed, ragged… he was a little breathless, from what Bulma could tell, and she immediately knew something major had come up.

“Dad? Is everything alright?”

“No, baby,” he said, and Bulma’s hand flew to her chest, trying to still her now erratic heartbeats.

“What happened? Are you ok?” she asked.

“Yes, but you won’t be!” he said urgently. “I need you to get out of your apartment, right now. I have received intel that some people are after you. You need to get out, now!”

Her panic dwindled slightly at the sheer ridiculousness of her father’s claim.

However, his words made her take a glance around the room, her eyes that had been raised in the heart of danger making a quick sweep of her surroundings and quickly noting the locked doors and reinforced windows.

“Dad, that’s impossible,” she said brightly into the receiver, even while her brows furrowed in concern. “This flat isn’t even named after me. I’m not using my real name here!”

“That doesn’t matter! Leave, now!” he yelled, his desperation bleeding into his shouted words. “Go into the woods, whatever. I am sending men to fetch you right now.”

This was not the first time that her father had been so paranoid, and Bulma was skeptical.

“Dad, really, I don’t think-”

Bulma cut herself off with a shrill little scream, when the lights in her room suddenly turned off, plunging her into pitch blackness.

 _“A power outage?”_ she thought in confusion.

“Bulma!” her father screamed.

“Dad, I’m fine!” she placated. “The lights just went out all of a sudden. Lemme grab my flashlight-”

“No!” Dr. Briefs yelled. “Don’t! If the lights went out, that means they are _there,_ Bulma! You need to go! Walk in the shadows… draw no attention to yourself. Get out of there, now!”

This time, she believed him, and did not need to be told twice.

“I will call you when I get to safety,” she said, turning off the call.

She grabbed her bag, felt around for her keys and wallet, and she stuffed those and her phone into her pockets before she made a break for the door.

8-8-8-8-8

The phone vibrating in his hand was their signal.

The power had been cut, and it was time to make their move.

Vegeta stood in the lobby of the apartment building, watching the small bit of panic on the patrons’ faces as the lights went down.

They needn’t worry… it was not them that he was coming for.

The public address system pinged, and a clear voice rang out to address the residents.

“All residents, please vacate the building,” it called. “We are experiencing technical difficulties in the electrical circuitry. We are now working to restore the power. We advise you to vacate to ensure your safety. ”

The same message was repeated twice more as the small communication link in his ear beeped.

“We’re in, big brother ,” a voice said in his ear, almost cheerful-sounding in spite of the serious nature of events. “Emergency lines are down, as well.”

“Good job, Kakarot,” Vegeta said, his deeper baritone humming into the line. “Lapiz? Are you ready?”

“Of course,” a smooth, calm voice called in. “Piccolo and I are underground. Waiting for your move, Prince.”

“Don’t call me that,” he growled as he began to walk in the opposite direction of all the tenants rushing to leave the building.

A staff member was ushering people out, telling them to vacate due to a short circuit in the building, and Vegeta smirked as he recognized the guy as one of the people he had paid off to help let them into the maintenance rooms.

He smirked as he made his way to a side room, leading into the emergency maintenance stairwell. He calmly climbed the stairs, his dark eyes narrowed in concentration as he approached the correct floor.

She was still there. He could practically _feel_ her.

A flow of people greeted him as he alighted on the fifth floor, their excited chatter annoying him, the beams from their flashlights blinding him as they flashed across his face while they moved.

Vegeta knew that Briefs would tell her not to use a flashlight. The old man was predictable, that way.

A small movement off to his left alerted him to a slight, dark silhouette trying to make its way through the darkness.

He pulled his night vision glasses out of his coat pocket even though honestly, he didn’t truly need them quite yet.

Even in the pitch-black halls, he would recognize that strangely-colored fall of hair, anywhere.

With a devilish smirk, he begins the chase.

8-8-8-8-8

Trying to navigate the halls in the dark was hell.

She took tiny, measured steps, hands feeling along the walls as she did her hardest to not trip over anything.

It had been easier to move around when she was still among the people who had their lighting implements on, but as she strode further away from the flow, she realized that she may have made a mistake.

She had thought, if people were after her, they would probably try to find her among the sea of people. Nobody would have guessed that she would try to make her way out using the smaller stairwell in the maintenance areas. 

“For a genius, I could be really dumb sometimes,” she muttered, feeling a small wave of relief wash over her as her eyes began to adjust to the darkness.

She could make out the faint outline of a door, and knew from the blueprints that she had of the building that this was the main entryway to the maintenance areas.

Slowly, she turned the knob, not making a sound.

She closed the door behind her, taking a deep breath before she leaned back against the wall beside the door. 

Bulma looked around, realizing with trepidation that something was… off.

This was the maintenance area. She had expected the maintenance men to be swarming this place, trying to fix the broken circuits so they could restore power to the building.

Why then… was it empty?

Not a sound, not a soul in sight.

Her heart beat harshly within her chest, as she began to suspect that, in her over-thinking her escape, she may have screwed herself, instead.

The soft click of the door behind her, followed by the soft sound of hushed footsteps that like her, remained unguided by light, confirmed her suspicions.

Suppressing a gasp, Bulma tried to find a place to hide, feeling around for any apparatus large enough for her to plaster herself against.

To her horror, the silhouette of the intruder started walking closer.

She took off in a panic, trying her best to run in the pitch black darkness, holding in her panting breaths as she fought to clear her mind, to _think_ …

She was Bulma Briefs, and she refused to acknowledge that she somehow may have been outsmarted by one of her father’s thuggish rivals.

Her keys jingled softly in her pocket, but in the absolute stillness of the dark, the sound seemed as loud as sirens to her terrified ears.

As if hearing her distress, the person chasing her mocked her by stomping once, a little loudly, almost making her shriek.

Her hands groped in the darkness before her, and on impulse, she felt around her pocket, grasping at the tiny charm that held her noisy keys together.

Her lucky charm. An old, round spaceship toy that she had turned into a keychain as a memento of her dearest friend that she had lost when they were just children. For all the years after he had died, having the toy with her made her feel like he was still right there, and with her heart in her throat, she begged the heavens for him to keep her safe once again.

She hoped against hope, that he was still watching over her, right at that moment.

Her footsteps sounded too loud and heavy to her ears, and she was sure that the person chasing her could find her on the sound of her footfalls alone.

She turned a corner, and she let out a loud, desperate gasp when her hands pushed forward…

And found a solid, brick wall.

She was trapped.

The despair went through her just as she felt the thick, large hands grab hold of her shoulders, and she finally let out a scream as she tried to struggle away from her captor.

“Kyaaa!” she yelled “No! Don’t touch me!”

The person let out a snicker, a low, man’s voice that sent terrified shivers up her spine, before he effortlessly pulled her by the waist with a single arm, and with the other hand, she felt him lift a cold metal cylinder to her head.

A gun.

Her screaming subsided with a choke, her hands helplessly flying towards her chest to still the erratic beating of her heart.

“Please,” she whispered, “Don’t shoot.”

She felt him pull her closer, pressing her against an unyielding body, as a chuckle vibrated across his chest that was right against her back.

From what she could tell, he was not too tall, but was made of a thick wall of pure muscle that she, in her frailness, had no hope of getting away from.

She felt the gun leisurely caress her cheek, until it pressed up against the side of her throat, followed by the hot sensation of a gust of his breath against the back of her neck.

“Now, why would I want to go and kill you _now,_ Ms. Briefs?”

His voice, low and throaty, terrified her…

And for some reason, brought a strange twinge of familiarity to twitch at the back of her mind.

“Who are you?” she demanded, trying and almost succeeding at keeping her voice from trembling.

“That does not matter,” he answered. “What is imperative right now, _Princess,_ is that you cooperate with me. And we shall start by walking back the way you came, into your apartment, so we can make a little call.”

She sucked in a breath.

“And if you know what is good for you,” he hissed, “you will not make a sound _.”_

She pushed at him slightly, before she hissed back.

“Do _not_ call me Princess.”

8-8-8-8-8

Ah, so she still had that fight within her, after all.

“Very well,” Vegeta answered, taking a discrete whiff of her hair as he pulled her more tightly against him.

She smelled glorious.

Even more so than he remembered.

Then again, his memories of her scent were always mixed with the smell of grass, the scent of sweat, sunshine and childish delight.

She was definitely no longer a child, now.

As quickly and gently as he could, he forced her to walk back the way they had come, his small night vision glasses helping him see perfectly in the darkness.

He had to admit, that toying with her, giving her hope that she had even a slim chance of getting away when he could clearly see her struggling to take her tiny steps, was rather enjoyable.

The whole area was still dark as they trudged down the hall leading to her room.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, her voice strong and demanding even in her compromised state. “Are you gonna rob me? Kill me? Rape me?”

He chuckled darkly at that. “Oh believe me, Ms. Briefs… If I were to decide to fuck you, it would not be rape. You would be _begging_ for it.”

She scoffed, pulling a smirk from his lips.

“I highly doubt that, you brute.”

He could see the door. They were almost there.

“Who _are_ you?” she asked again. “Do I know you?”

Amidst her question, he sensed an underlying note of genuine curiosity.

She knew. Or at least, a part of her did.

She had always been too smart, even for him.

“You are in no position to be demanding answers, Ms. Briefs,” he said simply.

He finally pushed his way into her apartment, and found his men waiting for them in the living room.

“Lapiz,” he called out, pulling off his night vision glasses, sticking them into his jacket pocket. “The lights.”

A small halo of light appeared from a single lamp in the middle of the room, giving off a faint illumination that was just enough to see by.

“Piccolo,” he called.

“Yes, boss,” a tall, thin man with a tall nose and a white turban round his head stepped forward, holding the ropes, just as planned.

He felt Bulma gasp against him as Piccolo came forward, quickly tying her hands together, before he knelt down to bind her legs while Vegeta held her steady.

After Piccolo was done tying her up, Vegeta ushered her down onto a chair, patting her pockets, and pulling out her phone, wallet, and keys.

It was as he was placing her things down onto a table to leave them behind that the small trinket dangling from her keys, hanging beside a tiny flash drive, caught his eye.

He paused, lifting it closer to his face, disbelieving…

The small, white toy, a miniature alien spacepod from a silly television show he had watched as a kid, cheerfully taunted him, causing him to gasp inaudibly.

He turned it over, and saw exactly what he had hoped, or perhaps dreaded, staring back at him.

A tiny “V”, carved onto the back of the toy.

A marker, carved onto the trinket with a small kitchen knife.

He glanced surreptitiously at the woman who was glaring at his men.

She had _kept_ it.

All those years…

Vegeta cleared his throat, steeling himself.

It was not the time for sentimentality.

However, unable to help himself, he found himself surreptitiously putting the woman’s keys into his own pocket instead of leaving them behind.

Before him, Lapiz was already setting up the small netbook, loading up the video call that would connect them to the man who had helped destroy his family.

The cheerful sound made by the application was like an alarm, fully pulling him into the moment, reminding him of his long overdue revenge.

He cracked his knuckles, situating himself behind Bulma’s chair, both of them directly in front of the small computer that was currently placing a video call request to none other than Dr. Trunks Briefs.

Lapiz took his position behind the computer, his short black hair falling primly behind his ears as he aimed a gun at the woman, just as Vegeta had instructed.

Vegeta was trembling from his excitement, but he reined it back, forcing on a placid expression as the face of the man finally appeared on the screen.

“Hello?” the older man called into the screen.

“Dad!” Bulma called, on cue.

Vegeta’s smirk widened.

“Bulma? Bulma, it’s dark. Did you make it out?”

“Dad-”

“No, Dr. Briefs. She did not make it out,” Vegeta finally called out, and he watched in glee as the scientist’s eyes widened, first in fear, and then, in horrified recognition.

“You…?” he choked out. “The Dark Prince…”

He almost sneered at the tile.

Oh, how he hated it.

At the moment though, he relished in the terrified reverence that he heard in Briefs’ voice as he stared in petrified horror at him through the computer screen.

“Yes, me. Surprised, doctor?” he taunted, placing a hand on Bulma’s shoulder for show.

“My daughter! Please, don’t hurt my daughter-”

“Does she look to be in pain, doctor?” he asked. “She will remain unscathed, if you tell me exactly what I need to know.”

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma blanched as she saw her father’s eyes widen on the screen.

He had been looking at her, but then his eyes became riveted on her abductor, standing guard right behind her.

“ _I knew it,_ ” she thought to herself. “ _Something about him is familiar. My father knows him…_ ”

The man behind her began talking again, and Bulma strained her mind, trying in vain to think of where, _where and when,_ she had heard that voice before.

It was not entirely familiar… like an echo of a long-forgotten memory that had been distorted by time, but she had known from the start, from the very first time that he had spoken to her, that she _knew_ that voice…

“I will ask you, only once, Briefs,” he snarled. “Where is the third?”

Her father looked shell-shocked. “The third… you have found the second?”

“As I have said to your daughter… you are in no position to be demanding answers from me,” the man bit out. “Answer my question, Briefs.”

Bulma watched her father through the camera…

He was tight-lipped, his eyes wide in terror and agony… and she realized with a sinking feeling that she _knew_ that look.

It was the face he made whenever he had to keep a terrible secret from her and her mother… his face whenever he knew that the syndicate’s business was far more important than anything he had on his plate.

At once, she came to the startling realization that whatever it was that her kidnapper was asking about, her father knew exactly what the answer was.

And yet, even with her sitting there in mortal danger, he would _not_ talk.

She was absolutely sure.

The horrifying thought raged inside her head, and she understood that whatever it was, was bigger, more important, than her.

She began to despair as she watched the emotions run amok on her father’s face.

She closed her eyes as she heard her father speak the words that would spell her doom.

“I am sorry, young man. I do not know,” he answered, and she heard his plea through his softly-whispered words.

_I am sorry, Bulma._

She shook her head in disbelief.

Her father had just sold her out… to keep a secret for the syndicate.

“Tch,” the man behind her spat. “Yes you do, Briefs. I am rather disappointed that you would allow your own daughter to die for a secret that we can unfold soon, anyway. I had just been hoping that you could make the search easier.”

Bulma felt his hold on her shoulders tighten, and she peeked, seeing the thin, severe-looking man behind the netbook still pointing his gun at her in warning.  

“I know you do not think much of your existence, Briefs,” the man said, “but let me see how well you hold out when I have your daughter with me.”

With that, he gave her shoulder a sharp, painful squeeze.

“Aah!” she cried out, trying to hold back tears at the unwelcome sensation.

“Bulma!” Dr. Briefs cried.

“You had your chance, Briefs!” he said again. “And if you value your daughter’s life, even a little… make sure that the details of this little chat never reaches Frieza.”

“What do you plan to do with Bulma?” Dr. Briefs asked.

The man simply walked away from her, and with a menacing smirk, answered:

“We will be in touch.”

He then reached down, and disconnected the call.

He turned to the other two, who simply nodded and began packing up their computer and lights, as he approached her again, and before the lights went out, she finally caught a decent glimpse of the man who had been holding her captive.

Bulma’s breath caught in her throat as the sense of recognition began to relentless nag at her mind.

Her eyes took in the broad shoulders that made up for a rather compact stature, his hair a dark, controlled flame above his head. His large hands lifted to conceal his eyes behind what seemed like a set of high-tech night vision lenses.

She shook in denial. _It couldn’t possibly be…_

His eyes… she needed to see his eyes.

She didn’t even fight him when he untied her legs, then forcefully pulled her up with him, a gun to her side as he made her walk briskly beside him and his men.

It seemed like a small eternity, but soon, she felt the breeze of the cold autumn night on her cheeks, and she had barely realized that she was out of the building before she felt herself being pushed into a sleek, black car.

The man followed immediately behind her.

“Drive,” he growled, and a blond seated at the driver’s seat nodded, speeding them off into the night.

Bulma looked around, noting another dark car following closely behind them, and she took a deep breath, gathering her will before she turned to face her abductor.

Now, in the sparse lights of the few streetlamps littering what looked to be a back street, she gazed at his face, turned sharply towards her while his gun remained trained on her.

“Please,” she tried to reason with him again. “Why are you doing this? My father already told you that he doesn’t know anything.”

He smirked, an eerily familiar expression that made her chest constrict.

She needed to see his eyes!

“Come now, woman. Did you honestly believe that he was being truthful?” he asked, and Bulma viciously pushed her tears back, as desperation filled her.

She tried to discreetly move her hands, hoping to loosen the binds.

“I would not attempt to escape if I were you, Bulma.”

She stilled.

_It can’t be…_

She looked at him again, her heart hammering in her chest…

The way he said her name… it was unmistakable.

A slightly teasing cadence, the “u” sound deeper and a little longer than necessary.

There was only one person who had ever spoken her name that way…

“My name… why did you say my name that way?” she whispered.

He pointedly looked away.

Bulma felt her lower lip tremble. “Please… may I… will you let me see your eyes?”

He glanced at her, and with a hesitant sigh, lifted his free hand, and pulled off his dark glasses.

Her very breath stopped, and she stared.

Those eyes… narrowed, slanted, with thick brows… the darkest eyes she had ever seen.

The sight of those eyes transported her mind back to her youth, to happier times, before all the complications began, and she finally felt the tears fall unbidden down her cheeks.

She would know those eyes anywhere.

Bulma choked, her emotions too much, running too high…

It should not have been possible. But she couldn’t possibly be wrong…

“Ve… Vegeta?”

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and that miniscule affirmation was all that it took to make her tears fall harder.

“Oh God… you’re alive?”

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dear friend that she had long thought to be dead comes back into Bulma's life. However, he is determined to show her that her cherished memories are now truly nothing more than mementos, and for all intents and purposes, the boy she had known years ago might as well have truly perished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Here is Chapter 2. I hope you all enjoy this!

Bulma was shaking.

Her hands ceased their useless struggles against her binds as everything within her leapt in elated disbelief at what she realized she had found.

Vegeta… her dear Vegeta, was alive.

“I- I… I can’t believe it,” she stuttered, lips quivering amidst the flow of tears down her cheeks. “Vegeta… it’s you, isn’t it?”

He looked the same and yet so different, and the changes notwithstanding, Bulma could not possibly have been mistaken.

The boyish bangs were gone, leaving a sharp, severe widow’s peak that led up into the familiar tempered flames of his dark hair.

His face – though essentially the same – had lost its round, cherubic aura, and had gained defined, patrician angles. His dark, narrow eyes were intense, accentuated by his thick brows that slashed down sharply, contrasting with plump lips that were currently twisted in thinly-veiled contempt.

He tensed, looking away from her while she continued to stare, helplessly swept away by her rioting emotions.

“I knew it. Even in the dark… before I saw you. Something in me told me that I knew who you were,” she rambled on, her elation blinding her to the turmoil of the man before her. “My friend, my best friend!”

His eyes simply glared in response, and at that, Bulma’s brows furrowed in confusion.

Why did he seem so… different?

Closed-off… So aloof, _angry_ …

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, unconsciously moving forward, wanting to touch him… make sure that he was _real_. “You were dead! We buried you… I cried for months-”

“They buried the body of a homeless child. It was not me in the casket,” he finally responded.

Bulma smiled, her heart thumping in excitement once again. “This is great! My father... He took over the Saiyan Mansion, you know. You can live there again, it’s in great shape because Dad took care of that place-”

“Of _course_ he did,” Vegeta suddenly cut her off with a hiss, taking her aback.

Bulma frowned deeply. “What do you mean? Vegeta…”

“Stop speaking to me with such familiarity,” he growled, and Bulma’s jaw snapped shut with a click.

“But… why? I _do_ know you. Vegeta-”

“And stop saying my name that way,” he said, face now twisted in enough fury to make her recoil away from him. “You may have known me as a child, but believe me, _woman,_ I am not the same friend from before. The child you knew might as well have truly been dead.”

Her jaw fell slack in shock.

“Why… why are you doing this?” she asked. “What are you even saying? I… I don’t understand…”

Bulma leaned forward slightly, trying to look at his face, to see into the eyes of the beloved friend that she had cherished so much her whole life.

“Please? Tell me…” she tried again. “You’re alive, and I am so happy that you are, but-”

“But _what?_ ” he asked, and Bulma sat straight up when he finally turned to her again.

She was utterly shocked at the amount of rage, the hatred, that she saw burning in his eyes.

“But what, woman?” he asked again. “But _why, how,_ am I alive? Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She sat unmoving, in denial over the resentment that she could feel from his every word.

He had pulled himself up, and he loomed over her, his wide shoulders intimidating her, his fists shaking as if he was trying his hardest to keep from lashing out at her.

“I almost did end up dead. But I lived. I survived. And it is no thanks to you, the Briefs,” he said, his tone dripping with malice.

Bulma’s lower lip quivered as true terror began to make its way into her heart.

“You’re… you’re scaring me,” she whispered.

“And you are right to be afraid, because I am here now, I am _back_ ,” he answered, “to claim what should have always been mine.”

Bulma was stunned. She could not understand his anger, his resentment, and she definitely was astounded by how it all seemed to be directed at _her_ and her father.

“Why are you saying these things to me? Why did you need to abduct me?” she asked, desperately trying to understand his motives. She refused to believe that her friend had become so…

Malicious…

Desperate to get through to him, she leaned forward, eyes begging. “Do you need help? I know lawyers who can help you with your estate. You don’t need to force me to help, Vegeta. I will do anything to help you.”

“Tch,” he scoffed. “You think I need your _help?_ No, I need the information that your father is withholding from me. What I want, what I _need,_ is vengeance, for what he had done to my family.”

She tensed.

There it was again… that very vital piece of information that her father had kept secret at the expense of her own life.

He had left her to die, all to keep the Syndicate’s secrets…

In the face of the realization of her father’s carelessness and Vegeta’s clear hatred of her, Bulma felt despair begin to swallow her whole, feeling sick to her stomach as she began to truly understand that something was very, _very_ wrong.

The information… was it linked to Vegeta’s parents?

What was Vegeta talking about?

“Your family? Then why are you going after my father?” she asked, trying to piece together all the half-truths hat she had dealt with for the past hour. “Dad tried to help you... He tried to get to you, and to your brothers, but he was too late. He was so devastated when he found out that your parents had been killed-”

“ _Shut up!”_ he yelled, turning to fully face her, one hand in a tight fist as the other shook convulsively around his grip on the gun.

She backed away, eyes trained on the weapon.

Would he actually hurt her? Kill her?

The hopeful part of Bulma, the one that held on to the memory of the innocent boy who had once played under the sun with her, fiercely believed that he would not.

Yet, the rational part of her, the one currently looking at the furious man sitting mere inches from her, holding a gun with the safety clicked off, knew that he just may be capable of anything that he will need to do just to get the information he needed.

Her attention was pulled away from the gun when he started speaking again, but it was not just his guttural voice that arrested her notice, but also the words that spilled angrily from his lips.

“It was your father who plotted our downfall,” he said, and Bulma shuddered in denial, even while a part of her suspected that Vegeta may be right.

“But no matter,” he went on. “Trunks Briefs may hold the secret to finding him, but we will get our answers, one way or another. We, the Saiyans, will rise again.”

Bulma was confused. “What do you mean, finding _him?_ Who are you looking for?”

Vegeta turned away, training his eyes on the road while his gun lowered, pointing to the ground.

She finally started putting the pieces together. “The third. You were asking my father about _the third._ Is that what you are looking for? A person? The third person? Third to whom?”

He ignored her as Bulma felt the car come to a very sudden stop, and, without a seatbelt, she was hurled forward into the back of the driver’s seat.

At least, she would have if not for Vegeta’s arm, still holding the gun, blocking her way and saving her from painfully hurtling face-first.

“Oof!”she exclaimed, leaning heavily over his thick arm, clothed in the expensive dark cloth of his suit. She looked down at the limb, a steady barrier keeping her from getting injured, and a miniscule part of her rejoiced in the fact that he had still looked out for her, in spite of his apparent hatred for her and her father.

 _Her_ Vegeta, her dear friend from the most innocent part of her youth, was still in there…

Firmly buried beneath the apparently sadistic man who was keeping her hostage.

She swore that she was going to do everything in her power to find her Vegeta once again.

With a small sigh, she sat up, and she was just about to ask him where they were when the door beside Vegeta opened.

She looked up, and her jaw fell slack.

A tall man wearing a bright orange jacket, with cheerful eyes belying a stern frown, looked into the car at her and Vegeta. He had thick, unruly hair that stuck out in all directions, and an unmistakable tiny birthmark on the lower right side of his chin.

It all made _so much sense._

After all, if Vegeta was there, alive, somehow…

“You’re… Little Karot? Ka- Kakarot?” She stuttered.

…It made complete sense, that his brother would be, as well.

The man looked at her coolly, and Bulma almost smiled as she saw in him the small boy who had used to run around her own home, playing with rocks and sticks while she and Vegeta had reclined on the grassy lawn.

He looked almost exactly the same, and her heart was bursting with happiness at finding both brothers alive…

Kakarot barely managed a nod before he turned to Vegeta, his thin lips in a tight line.

“Big Brother,” he began, confirming Bulma’s suspicions.

It truly was Kakarot.

“The other camp has been compromised. We will set up here, instead,” he continued.

Vegeta turned to her then, pointing the gun at her as her side of the door opened, revealing the thin, dark-haired man who had trained a weapon at her as they called her father earlier.

He grabbed her roughly, dragging her out of the vehicle. Before she was able to open her mouth to scream, his hand quickly slapped a thick piece of duct tape over her lips, keeping her silent as he quickly and painfully held her arm, pulling her along with him towards a simple two-storey house.

They were surrounded by thick foliage and tall trees, and Bulma realized in distress that she was out of the city, without the faintest idea of where on earth they could possibly have taken her.

She struggled futilely against his powerful grip, wondering at how his thin frame hid such strength within his hands.

“Lapiz,” Vegeta called, and she paused as the dark-haired man with icy blue eyes turned to regard her old friend.

“Yes, Prince?” he asked, his voice a strange monotone that seemed out of place from his severe features.

“Be a little gentler with her. She will not be good as leverage if we were to damage her,” Vegeta said as he briskly walked past them, heading into the house after Kakarot.

Bulma’s heart pounded at his words, while her eyes followed Vegeta until he was inside the house and out of her sight, and hope blossomed within her chest once again.

Perhaps, there truly was a way to get to him, still.

She barely noticed when the man – Lapiz, he had been called – muttered under his breath as he began to pull her into the house once again.

As soon as she was inside, her eyes cast around, assessing the structure, trying to find any flaws that she could exploit should she be able to try to escape.

It truly was just a typical house, with a stairwell off to one side and a kitchen and dining room in the other, with what looked like a wooden picnic table and chairs in a large back yard. There was a rather spacious living room, with a large couch and two wide armchairs that stood around a small wooden center table.

It was strange, how cozy the place looked. It looked as if it had been regularly occupied, the furniture and electronics looking well-worn but intact.

She was tugged upstairs, and before she knew it, she found herself pushed into a small, brightly-lit bedroom. Lapiz released her hands, but before she could move to try to hit him or force her way past him, he shoved her away from him as he backed away, loudly shutting the door in her face.

Stunned, she catches herself before she trips over her feet, feeling about her face to pull off the thick tape, cringing in pain as the adhesive pulled harshly at her skin.

“Let me out!” Bulma cried as soon as she removed the tape, and she pounded on the door, gritting her teeth in rage. “You can’t just keep me here!”

“Yes we can,” Lapiz replied coolly. “And if I were you, I would pipe down and relax. If you keep making noise, I assure you that I can find ways to make this _very_ uncomfortable for you.

She stood, pounding madly at the door for what seemed like hours, her voice growing hoarse as she screamed, going from threatening them all with law suits to _begging_ to be let out.

However, she had begun to tire, and before she truly wanted to give in, her exhausted body made her decision for her, leading her to slump frustratedly against the door.

“Argh!” she yelled, her hands slamming angrily against the wooden door one more time before she turned to look around the room.

It was, just like the rest of the house, deceptively comfortable. However, Bulma immediately noticed that in place of blinds, the windows were barred with closely-welded, thick metal grates, covering heavily-tinted glass. She would hazard a guess, that the windows were bullet-proof.

She moved forward to sit glumly on the edge of the bed in the center of the room, feeling twenty years older than she had been just that morning. With a loud sigh, she leaned down, placing her face in her hands as she mulled about her situation, a part of her still unable to believe what had just happened.

Worry ate at her as she finally accepted the fact that she had truly just been abducted, held hostage for information that her father likely would not give, and her kidnappers were headed by her dearest childhood friend whom she had long believed to be dead.

She was dejected and utterly exhausted, and with a groan, she glumly leaned back against the mattress, looking up at the ceiling, still trying to make sense of all that had happened.

Her eyes felt heavy, her fears about her situation keeping her from rest, even while she felt her mind begin to jumble with the mental fog that was quickly taking over her. Her awareness was dwindling, but how could she possibly fall asleep when she was in a strange house, unsure even of whether or not she would still see the light of the next day?

She fought back bitterly against her body, but soon enough, she found herself laying on the bed, her eyes drooping closed, and against her own will, her consciousness gave way to the darkness of slumber.

8-8-8-8-8

Vegeta found it strange, that she had stopped yelling.

He had been convinced that Bulma would have been screaming herself hoarse, all night, and it was rather unusual for a hostage to be so… docile.

Curious, he walked up the stairs, finding Lapiz dutifully leaning against the door, standing guard.

“How is she?” he asked, and Lapiz smirked, a small quirk of his thin lips that raised Vegeta’s hackles. _“I swear to God if he says something stupid, I will-”_

“She’s asleep,” he answered.

Vegeta blinked. “Asleep?”

Lapiz nodded. “Rather fitfully, too. Would you like to go on guard duty now?”

Vegeta nodded once, and Lapiz walked off, not even glancing back as he opened the door slowly, carefully peering into the room where they had dumped Bulma.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered half-amusedly as he saw that the woman really _was_ asleep, lying on her side diagonally across the small bed, hands curled together beside her head like a small child.

Like the child that he had last seen her as, before _that day_.

Banishing the infuriatingly sentimental thought, Vegeta stepped closer, watching her chest move gently with her breaths, her thick lashes brushing against the tops of her cheeks. Her blue hair had been pulled out of her earlier ponytail, and now her long tresses sprawled wildly about her head, like the waves of an ocean fanning over the shore.

He found himself sitting beside her, silently observing her, wondering how on earth she had managed to fall asleep at a time like this.

A powerful impulse to touch her seized him, and he watched helplessly as his hand lifted to rest softly on her head, his fingers tangling whimsically amongst the strands of her mussed-up hair.

He marveled at how the strands flowed like water between his fingers, at how they curled around his wrist, and he was so fixated on the contrast of the blue against his caramel skin that he failed to notice as she began to stir.

Bulma turned, and seemingly suddenly, the widest, deepest blue eyes he had ever known were staring questioningly at him while he sat dumbly at the edge of her bed, beside her.

He pulled away, determinedly staring at the wall, schooling his features into a stern frown even while he felt his ears burn painfully from his embarrassment at being caught.

“Vegeta,” he heard her speak, and against his better judgment, he cast his eyes back towards her, taking in her bleary eyes and the pinkened part of her cheek that had rested against the pillow.

He merely grunted.

He felt her shift so she was sitting up beside him, and in spite of the small distance between them, it was as if he could feel her heat, follow the beating of her heart.

“Hey,” she called cautiously. “Can we… can we talk?”

He smirked. “And are you not talking, already?”

He felt her small hand slap playfully at his arm, and he stared at her with wide eyes, unable to believe her brazen, unguarded action.

She was his _hostage,_ and she still had the audacity to act so familiarly with him.

Does she truly still hold some confidence in him? A misguided sort of trust or kinship?

“You know what I mean,” she said pulling him from his thoughts. “This… you have to know, dad has nothing to do with the crimes against your father. You know my dad, Vegeta-”

He stiffened, immediately sobering.

“Stop,” he said, his voice hard, angry. “You know nothing. You have absolutely no idea-”

“Vegeta, please!” she cried. “I… I remember that day. I remember it so well. I was with my father when he received the call about your family.”

He clenched his fists. How could that be?

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” he hissed.

“I’m not lying! I swear to you,” she said, moving closer to him, a hand hovering over his, as if she wanted to touch him, but was hesitant, afraid.

He turned to her, brows low, teeth bared. “You cannot possibly-”

“I was in the car while my father was at the plaza.”

This stopped him cold.

He did not know that she had been in the plaza when he – when he –

“Dad was yelling at me to stay put, and I screamed when I heard the – the gunshots,” she murmured, and Vegeta watched as she turned pale, memories of her fear on that fateful day filling her face with clear dread.

She gulped. “I tried to go after him when he ran off, but it was so… so _chaotic_ , and I froze, and suddenly, dad was there, and he shouted at me for leaving the car. He dragged me back into the car, and his phone rang, and… and then he was screaming at someone for letting Aunt Gine die.”

The sound of that name, a name that he had not heard spoken aloud in decades, sent a furious shudder to course through Vegeta, and he stood, fists tightly clenched as his teeth ground angrily.

“Do not speak that name,” he growled. “None of you Briefs can ever speak that name-” 

“I loved her too! Like she was my own mother! She-”

“She _was_ my mother!” he finally yelled, and Bulma recoiled as the sound of his voice echoed harshly within the small room.

“Vegeta-”

“She was _slaughtered,”_ Vegeta said, choking on the final word as he remembered the fate that had befallen the gentle woman. “And my father was killed when he tried to avenge her.”

The edges of his eyes burned with furious tears that he refused to let fall, would never again let fall.

He moved from the bed, pacing angrily around the room, his eyes determinedly watching his feet as he tried, tried so hard, not to look back at her, lest the sight of Bulma’s watery eyes tear his resolve from him.

He had to remember… Had to remind himself…

Bulma was the _enemy._

“And after that, they stole them…” he continued. “They stole Kakarot… And Raditz.”

He heard Bulma gasp, and he knew that she finally understood…

What it was he was looking for…

What it was that he was so desperate to find…

“They… they separated you three?” she asked, tone shocked, teary. “Vegeta, I am so sorry-”

“You mock me with your sympathy,” he snarled. “Your father and his people stole my brothers, and it took me years to find Kakarot. Now, nothing will stop me from finding the third child, our youngest brother, Raditz.”

He looked up, wanting to look into her eyes as he laid his anger out bare.

“You do remember, do you not? What it was that they said about the Saiyans,” he seethed. “We three, together, will dictate the fate of the Syndicate. It is our destiny. And no one, not you, nor your father, can keep me and my brothers from fulfilling that fate.”

Bulma leaps to her feet, her hands held out to him, as if reaching for him, but before her hands could touch him, he moved, grabbing her wrists, pushing so her hands clenched near her chest, away from him.

“Vegeta, you have to believe me,” she said, her voice broken, full of the weight of unshed tears. “My father would never hurt your mother. He was not responsible for this! Set me free and I will prove it to you!”

He laughed. “You think me so ignorant? No. You shall stay here until we have the answers we need. Your father holds the key to finding Raditz and he _will_ lead us to him, whether he wants to or not.”

“Please,” she begged again. “Don’t do this. You… this isn’t like you. I will help you, Vegeta. But you need to let me go. You are a good person and-”

“Do _not,”_ he shouted, shaking her slightly, “presume to know who I am. I have _changed_. What your father and the rest of those men have done to me has hardened me.”

“I-”

“You do _not_ know me,” he hissed, “just as much as I no longer know _you_.”

With those words, he pushed her away, forcing himself to ignore the pained little yelp she made when she stumbled, knocking her knees on the wooden bed posts while she fell back against the mattress.

He turned to go, and as he held the doorknob to let himself out, he heard her speak.

“I am still the same, Vegeta,” she said, the force behind her words surprising him, making him glance back.

“Tch,” he spat. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“I _am,”_ she insisted. “I am still Bulma. Your friend, your friend who loves you. And as your friend, I am telling you that my father knows _nothing_. If he knew anything, he would have told you before you had taken me away.”

He turned away again, a sneer crossing his lips before he left her with his parting words.

“Stop fooling yourself. You are a smart woman. We both know that he knew something. However, it appears as if keeping the secret is more important than keeping you safe,” he said as he turned away with a sneer, his eyes on the wooden grains of the door. “If he could forsake his own daughter, think about how easy it would have been for him to forsake me.”

He stepped out, locking the door from the outside as he heard her call out to him again, her voice raw from her hurt and denial.

Summoning all of the hatred and pain from the past years of his life, he steeled himself, and walked away.  

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta and Bulma’s pasts slowly come to light amidst her confinement and his continuous search for answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, welcome to Chapter 3! This chapter is very introspective, so not much physical action here. Prepare for the feels, though. :D  
> And once again, thanks to the incredible Blacksheep115 for the beta on this chapter! Love ya girl!

She wasn’t quite sure how long she had been locked in.

Bulma knew that she had been there for five major meals, thus, if she had been abducted at night, then she must have been locked in for a little less than two days.

To be fair, for a prisoner, she was being treated quite well.

A bedroom with a very comfortable bed, her own bathroom, at least three meals per day, plus a new set of clothes?

Not bad.

Sure, she was being detained against her will, but her mother had always told her to look on the bright side.

Another bit of good news was that Vegeta seemed to be out, and she thought that if she could attempt to escape, then this was her best chance.

Unfortunately, it seemed as if her childhood friend had thought of everything; as she looked around at the air vents that movies would lead you to believe can act as an escape route, she realized that the bastard had installed locks on every single one.

Even in the bathroom.

She sighed as she heard a knock, and she sat less than excitedly on her bed, a part of her actually curious about who could be at the door.

A head of dark, messy hair peeked in, and Bulma straightened, a hesitant smile lifting the sides of her lips.

“Kakarot?” she called, and he looked up from where he was carefully balancing a tray of cake, grapes and juice.

“It’s snack time,” he said, carefully placing the food down on a side table.

“Thank you,” she smiled, and as she did, she saw him frown, a small furrow appearing on his brow.

He appeared to hesitate, a small blush making its way to his cheeks before he softly muttered, “Do you… need anything else? I mean like, food or soda…”

“ _I need you to let me go,”_ she thought, but held her tongue, for the moment.

Instead, she shook her head, keeping the smile on her lips. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

He nodded, turning away, but something stopped him once more, and he spun around on his heel to look at her.

“You knew me when I was little, right?” he asked.

“Yes!” Bulma nodded, excited to be able to speak to the little boy that she had known years ago. “I did. You, Vegeta and I usually played around on the lawn. You were such a cute kid!”

“And you knew our parents?”

She nodded again. “I knew Uncle Vegeta and Aunt Gine. I never met your biological father, but I knew those two. Aunt Gine was always so nice to me.”

He looked pensive, unsure. “Vegeta always says that I look like my father. Our mother’s first husband. He had seen pictures.”

“So had I,” she said. “And I think Vegeta’s right.”

She watched as he chewed on his lip, and Bulma was fiercely reminded of the little boy that he had been; the cute, chubby kid who used to run away from her after he had stolen her candy bars.

“Kaka-”

“Call me Goku,” he cut her off. “I… when I was sent away, I was given to an old man who lived far up north. He’s the only family I remember. My Grandpa Gohan. He… he used to call me Goku, when he was still alive.”

“I see…” Bulma whispered, her heart going out to Goku for his clear sadness over the loss of the person who had raised him.

“And I had no idea… no idea, who I was. That my father died to protect my mother. And that my mother later died to protect me,” he continued.

Bulma’s heart bled for him, and she tried to reach out, only for Kakarot… _Goku,_ to catch her hand mid-reach.

“Right now, Vegeta is meeting with Tao, an old friend of Grandpa’s,” Goku said. “Tao could know something about Raditz. We need to find Raditz.”

Goku stood up, releasing her hand, before he turned to leave.

“Goku-”

“We’ve had you here for two days. Two days, and your father refuses to talk,” he said softly, and a barb made its way into Bulma’s chest as she was reminded again of how her own father had let her be taken away.

“Yes. Because he knows nothing, Goku,” she pleaded, fighting against the inner voice that was trying to convince her that yes, her father _did_ know. “You need to let me go-”

“Vegeta and I don’t _want_ to keep you here, Bulma,” he said, and Bulma straightened, feeling her eyes grow wide at his words.

“You don’t?” she asked, understanding then exactly why she had been treated so well, considering that she was directly connected to whom they perceived as their enemies. 

He shook his head, glancing back at her. “No. We may use force, but we’re not _evil_. Vegeta… He is a good man, but he needs leverage. _We_ need leverage. Because we _need_ to find our brother. Raditz is in danger.”

He looked so crestfallen, dejected, and Bulma shifted uncomfortably beneath the weight of his stare.

“Goku…” she began. “I am sure you need to find your brother, but this is not the right way-”

“Isn’t it?” he asked, turning to pierce her with a sharp stare that almost had her recoiling. “Because we don’t have many options. Vegeta has managed to build up a powerful underground network, but everybody else is in involved in the Syndicate.”

“I don’t know what you need from me,” Bulma said then, lifting a hand to her chest, her heart aching at how she could feel the sadness radiating from the man before her. “I want to help you, but-”

“Bulma… if you know anything… anything at all,” he said as he walked away, hand on the door. “Please tell us. We don’t want to hurt you… But we need to find our brother.”

She could do nothing but watch him as he left her alone once again, and Bulma bowed her head, fighting to stem the tears of frustration that gathered at her eyes.

8-8-8-8-8

Tao Pai Pai had been a fount of information, and Vegeta was beginning to suspect that dear old Grandpa Gohan was not exactly as straight-laced as he had seemed to Kakarot.

After all, how could an unassuming old man who lived in the middle of nowhere possibly have contact with Tao?

Tao was a retired hit man, and a good one, at that, whose information network spread even farther than Vegeta’s.

And Vegeta had been hunting for information, in the shadows, for decades.

After the downfall of his family, Vegeta had been raised as a warrior, an invisible sentinel whose sole purpose was to avenge his bloodline, to rain retribution upon the people who had wronged him and his brothers.

He had been steadily building up a powerful network of contacts, and as he searched for information, he had stumbled upon a phenomenal group of people who all held a similar hatred for the Syndicate.

Amongst the jaded men and women who surrounded him as he worked to achieve his goal, he had found his allies, an invaluable set of people who followed his every move, as they too had heard whispers of the Dark Prince who would someday be their true leader.

In his allies, he had found another family.

As he drove home after their meeting, he grinned as he pondered his new-found information, and though he had been skeptical at first, he knew that Tao’s leads were good.

He thought back on the recent years, when his search had finally led him to locate one of his brothers, his stepbrother, Kakarot.

When he had found Kakarot two years earlier, his younger brother had no recollection of who he was. Vegeta only had a single faded photograph to show him, a picture of their family, and he was forever grateful that Kakarot had believed him when he told him of their pasts.

_“I remember your face,”_ he had said. _“I know you. I’m sure. So, I trust you.”_

Yet, instead of simply being pleased, he had felt his brows furrow as a small snarl left his lips, and he had scolded the younger man for his eager compliance.

“ _You cannot just say that you trust me because you recognize my face! You need to be more cautious, boy. You need to think… what if I am familiar to you because I had tried to kill you before?” he growled. “You must be more critical. It is ignorance, to just trust so blindly. You-”_

_Kakarot’s laughter made him pause._

_“Yeah, now I really know that you’re my brother. Coz if you weren’t, you wouldn’t be so angry that I didn’t question you more, am I right?_

Kakarot was unconventionally crafty, Vegeta had to admit.

Vegeta had felt his heart lift as he looked into the face of his brother, a long-forgotten feeling rushing over him as he clasped his shoulder in one hand, feeling the sturdy strength of the boy he had missed so desperately for years…

Happiness…

Looking at Kakarot, Vegeta had found a spark of happiness, a spark that would only grow larger once he had their youngest sibling safe in their midst.

When they had sat down to speak, it became clear to Vegeta that Grandpa Gohan had known some _things_. It was difficult to ascertain, but several facts that he revealed to Kakarot had already been hinted at by old-man Gohan before, and this made it easier for the brothers to reconnect.

Kakarot had a vague idea about their parents… how Vegeta Sr., the father that he could dimly recall, was not his true father, but was indeed his mother’s second husband.

For Vegeta, his biological mother had passed away in childbirth. When Vegeta Sr. married Gine later, she had stepped up as the only maternal figure that he had ever known. Gine had basically _been_ his mother.

He seethed at the remembrance of Gine, at how such kindness had been dashed by people who had decided to destroy their family due to nothing more than superstition.

He could still recall her smile, her soft hands, and the gentle way that she had told him that he and Kakarot were both about to become big brothers.

_“Kakarot is very young, Vegeta. So this baby, this one in my tummy right now, you need to protect him, alright? You need to watch over him too, like you have been doing for Kakarot.”_

Ha had promised her, that he would protect Raditz and Kakarot. He needed to have his brother back, so he could fulfill that oath.

It was a promise that he had sworn upon as a child, and in hindsight, it was an oath that had been too heavy to place upon the shoulders of one so young.

Yet, he fully intended to stay true to his word. It was his duty, and it was one that he will never forget.

He raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as he sighed in frustration.

Tao may have given him a lead, but it was not enough.

He needed to find his youngest brother.

He needed to find Raditz, so they could end this madness, once and for all.

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma looked up, expecting to see Goku once again. It had been a few hours since he had left her food, and she was beginning to wonder if he would drop by again for dinner time.

When the door opened to reveal a different Saiyan brother, she brightened.

“Vegeta!” she called, her hand flying to her chest in her surprise.

She had not seen him since the first day of her abduction, and she was beginning to… worry.

He was, as the last time she had seen him, wearing a dark suit, partly buttoned up, with a red dress shirt beneath his black coat. He looked rather haggard, made clearer by the fact that he had loosened his collar and was no longer wearing a tie. His leather shoes shone, indicating his fastidiousness, the same one she could remember from their childhood.

Bulma could clearly remember how he usually cleaned up after her, how he picked her things up off the floor whenever he went into her bedroom, and she had teased him endlessly about how he was doomed to pick up after her for the rest of their lives.

A warm smile began to play around the edges of her lips, lost in sweet memories of better times, before the sound of his steps pulled her out of her musings.

She watched as he walked closer, sitting down at the edge of her bed, slightly out of her reach.

“Hey,” she called. “Are you any closer to finding Raditz?”

He looked up, surprised.

However, not as surprised as she, herself, was.

She realized that she was holding her breath, eagerly anticipating his answer.

Why did she even care?

She had been kidnapped, for God’s sake!

Clearing her throat, she spoke again. “I want to know… because when you find him, you’ll let me go, right?”

“Perhaps,” he commented, looking down, and she noticed that his hands were fidgeting with the sheets of her bed.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Vegeta, you do intend to let me go, right?”

He didn’t answer, simply narrowed his eyes as he kept his gaze on his fingers, twisting the long digits amongst the sheets.

“Vegeta!” she said, louder. “Tell me! What do you plan to do with me?”

“You are our hostage,” he said clearly, looking up to finally meet her eyes. “And you are here because we are still hoping that your father would have a mind to assist us in exchange for your freedom. However, it has been days, and he clearly has no intentions of doing so.”

“Because he doesn’t know anything!” she insisted again, determinedly scooting closer to him, feeling her blue eyes begin to fill with frustrated tears once again. “Vegeta, please. You have to let me go.”

“I cannot do that-”

“Why?” she cried. “ _Why?_ You gain nothing from keeping me here!”

“You are mistaken-”

“Are you just doing this to prove that you are a hot-shot? Huh?” She raised a brow in challenge as she insisted. “What, you wanna show them who’s boss? You wanna be the new leader of the Syndicate? You-”

“Enough!” he shouted, and Bulma reared back in alarm as he leapt up, an arm angrily slashing down to punctuate his angry shout.

His anger seemed so full, the depth of his malice effectively silencing her as she stared in shock into eyes that were both so familiar and yet completely unrecognizable in their fury.

She looked solemnly up at him, pleading with her eyes. “Vege-”

“Are you daft?” he asked, teeth grinding in rage. “Are you truly so absolutely stupid?”

She watched as he stood, facing away from her, fists balled tightly at his sides.

“You think I wish to be the leader of the Syndicate?” he scoffed, before barking out a sardonic laugh.

“Don’t you?” she asked carefully.

“No,” he hissed. He turned slightly to regard her from the corner of his eye. “I do not intend to _lead_ the syndicate, woman. I intend to _destroy_ it.”

She felt her eyes widen as a hand flew to her mouth, smothering the gasp that she felt bubble up in her surprise.

_Destroy_ it?

The one thing that Bulma had wanted most in life was to be free of the Syndicate; to see the walls of deceit crumble to pieces, to have the web of lies unravel.

She dreamed of living an honest life, away from the corruption and intrigue, removed from the crimes that the Syndicate committed in the furtherance of their twisted goals.

She would love nothing else, than to have the Syndicate fall.

But… was he telling the truth? Did he truly wish for the fall of the Syndicate?

Did Vegeta have the power to make the Syndicate fall to its knees?

Could it be… that he was what she had been waiting for all along, the one man who could truly set her free?

 “I _will_ take down the Syndicate,” he continued, “so that they would never, ever destroy another family, the way that they had done with mine. No child will have to suffer as I and my brothers did.”

He looked so sure, so determined, and Bulma noted how his voice shook with his deeply-guarded emotions, how his entire body seemed to tense in anticipation of the defeat of all of his enemies.

She could feel his all-consuming need for blood… for retribution.

However, she had grown up in the company of corrupt men her entire life, and her heart stuttered with skepticism. “How do I know that you’re not lying?” she asked.

“Tch,” he spat. “I do not need to prove anything to you.”

He started to move back towards the doorway, but Bulma had grown manic, desperate, and she lunged forward, grabbing at the edge of the sleeve of his dark suit.

“Vegeta, please. Please,” she begged. “If you truly mean that, please, let me help you.”

“Help me?” he sneered. “You expect me to believe that you wish to help _me_?”

She pulled at his sleeve, clawing at him until she had her slender fingers wrapped around his wrist.

He was unyielding, hard and angry, but as she looked at him, she saw only his eyes.

For in his eyes, she saw past the hardened man that he had become, to see the sweet boy that she had loved with all of her heart for all those years, her dearest friend whose mark on her had never once left her soul.

His eyes, dark as night, held a tiny spark of his true self, and Bulma wanted, _needed_ , to find her Vegeta.

She was convinced that behind his fury, her friend was still there, wanting to come out and meet her once again.

“Did you think that you are the only one who wants all of these horrible things to end?” she asked, her throat catching in her despair. “I have lived under the shadow of the Syndicate all my life. I want out. I-”

She choked on her words, her heart bleeding at the pain of her past, even while she knew that the seemingly-pampered life that she had led was clearly nothing compared to the one that Vegeta had to endure.

“I want out, Vegeta,” she rasped. “My mother… my mother died because of them. And as much as Dad and I hate the Boss for what had happened, we can’t fight him. But… but maybe _you_ can.”

He sneered, but as he did, Bulma thought she saw a hint of contemplation, as if he was seriously considering her words.

“I am not so easily swayed, woman,” he said, forcefully pulling away from her grasp, leaving her hands cold and aching. “You do not possibly think that I am gullible enough to place my life, the life of my men, in your hands.”

“Vegeta, please!” she begged again as he neared the door, as his hands grasped the knob to pull it open. “You _know_ me! I could never… I would never betray you!”

“Strong words for the daughter of the man who helped mutilate my mother.”

“I loved you!” she screamed, and as she did, the tears that she had been trying with all her might to hold back finally began to drip, unrestrained, down her cheeks.

He froze, his whole body tense.

Slowly, he turned, eyes dark and haunted, and Bulma’s breaths stuttered as she looked at her dear friend who had been through so much more than she could possibly endure.

“I-” she began. “I loved you. I never forgot about you, Vegeta.”

He swallowed, turning to look away from her again, as his lips twisted in agony.

“Do you not care for me at all?” she whispered, feeling bereft as the pain of his coldness numbed her.

She found herself unable to tear her gaze from him.

Her voice trembled. “Does our past mean nothing to you?”

His eyes narrowed, before he turned the knob, cracking the door open.

Bulma’s hands flew to her face as her sobs escalated, as her breaths heaved while the tears burned painfully from her eyes.

He was almost out of the room, when she heard his whispered response.

“It means everything to me…”

With a gasp, Bulma looked up, only to find him gone, the door locked heavily behind him.

8-8-8-8-8

The door to the kitchen was yanked forcefully, nearly torn off its hinges as Vegeta furiously strode in.

_“It means everything to me.”_

What a sentimental fool he was!

He could barely believe that those words had come from him, and were he on the outside looking in, he would have laughed heartily at the utter buffoon who wore his heart on his sleeve for a woman whose family was responsible for the ruin of his own.

Yet, his heart raged madly within his chest, and with a deep, stuttered sigh of frustration, he slumped back against the door, leaning heavily on it as his eyes closed in defeat.

The woman was driving him mad, his past and future colliding callously within the universe of her stormy blue eyes.

A soft jingling in his pocket caught his attention, and he looked down, his hand reaching in to fish out the infernal little memento that he had impulsively stolen from Bulma.

His eyes narrowed on the small toy-turned-keyring, the small, white, round space pod ornament with the roughly carved ‘V’ on the back.

The toy was over two decades old, and had been his favorite, when he was little. He had dreamed of becoming a space pirate like the cartoon character who had ridden in that ship, and he almost chuckled at the innocent, whimsical wishes of a young boy, who had no idea about the fate that would befall him.

He reverently brushed his thumb over the surface, offhandedly wondering if Bulma had done the same thing, if she had truly missed him, loved him, as she claims she always had.

Catching himself as his thoughts wandered once again, he grunted angrily, putting the toy back into his pocket, resolving to throw it out…

Soon.

He walked to the cupboard, angrily pulling out a pan and setting it on the stove burner, before he stomped over to the refrigerator to retrieve some eggs and whatever else he could find that was not the absolute garbage that Kakarot and Lapiz liked to eat.

He cracked the eggs open like they had personally offended him, pouring his irritation into his whisking, before he proceeded to chop vegetables, cheese, and a few slices of ham.

He was _hungry,_ dammit.

Raised by one of his father’s most trusted men, Vegeta never had to worry about being sold out by Nappa. However, what he did need to worry about was food poisoning from the big bald man’s atrocious cooking skills.

Nappa could not cook for shit, so Vegeta had to learn to feed himself.

He was no chef, but he could whip up some decent meals.

Nobody but Piccolo knew of this fact.

He had an image to keep up, after all, and being good in the kitchen wasn’t very macho to him. And if anyone else knew, he ran the risk of being the damn house cook. Piccolo only ever seemed to eat salads, so he was safe.

As he watched his meal begin to cook, he thought back on the days of his youth, and the events that had led up to his current predicaments.

Vegeta was four when he met Bulma. She had been a noisy little girl who had been bossing around everyone in the playroom, and he had stood up, asking her to be quiet as she was disturbing his drawing time.

She had gone up to him then, and said…

_“You’re kinda mean. I like you!”_

He had stared up at her, taking in the strange color of her hair, looking like twin waterfalls as her pigtails stuck out on each side of her head.

He had sneered at her, and she had beamed.

It was a very strange meeting, and for days afterwards, she had seemed determined to follow him everywhere; to get him to share her recess snacks with her, forcing him to borrow her red crayon when he told her that his own had somehow gotten lost.

He had never told her that he had thrown his red crayon into the trash bin.  

He never told her that her blue eyes called out to him in a strange way, that her happy smile made everything seem so much brighter.

A smirk formed on his lips, as he thought again, for more than the thousandth time, how the girl had always thought and boasted that she had _made_ him her friend, when in truth, he had let himself become one.

On Vegeta’s fifth birthday, his father had called him aside to tell him that he was about to remarry. He had never met his mother; He had barely even seen pictures of her, and he had been perfectly fine with it when his father introduced him to the widowed Gine and her little one-year old son, Kakarot.

He had been seven when he first realized that theirs was not exactly a typical blended family. Completely by accident, he had stumbled upon his father’s armory, hidden behind his and his stepmother’s walk-in closet.

He had quietly told Bulma, who had nodded solemnly.

_“I see strange things at home, too,”_ she had said. “ _Dad’s making some new guns and weird-smelling chemicals in his lab in the basement.”_

They stayed together, acting as each others’ anchor, their young minds trying to purge the troubling things that they could still not understand.

A year later, Gine had become pregnant with his baby brother, Raditz.

Another year later, when Vegeta was nine, his world was shattered.

His stepmother was killed, and his father had handed him off to Nappa.

Nappa had later told him that his father had died as well, and both Kakarot and Raditz were nowhere to be found.

His tears had refused to fall, as Nappa revealed to him what he had suspected all along: his father, and Bulma’s father, were part of the infamous West City Syndicate.

Vegeta grit his teeth at the usual anger that filled him when he remembered his past.

He really needed to eat.

He sat down to dig in to one of the two omelets that he had made, and though he wanted nothing more than to just enjoy his food, his mind stubbornly crawled along to mull about his long-dead biological mother, who had been the daughter of a mob hitman.

Panchy Briefs, Bulma’s mother, had been one as well.

The two women had been the reasons for their fathers’ involvements in the Syndicate, and unfortunately for them all, this had earned their entire families one-way tickets into the crime ring.

He stood up as he finished his meal, and he was cleaning up after himself when he happened to glance at the extra dish.

He had made two omelets.

In his earlier fury, he did not even consciously realize that he had made two.

He sighed in defeat as he placed the food onto a plate, knowing exactly what he had been subconsciously thinking about when he made the second dish.

He fetched a packet of juice from the fridge, then walked back to the counter where he had placed the food. He stood over the meal, momentarily hanging his head in frustration, before he took a deep breath, straightening as he steeled himself, and began to bring the food back towards where Bulma was.

The door loomed ominously before him, as he fiercely dreaded what he would find, terrified of seeing the same accusing look in her eyes that had made him turn away from her just a few hours ago.

He knocked twice, pulling out his key to unlock the door.

Silence greeted him as he entered, and his eyes searched for her, only to find that the woman had fallen asleep.

She was sprawled face-down across the bed, face turned to the side, hands curled into loose fists beside her head. She was still wearing the thin pants and t-shirt that she had on when he visited her earlier, and wet tracks of tears were still discernible on her cheeks.

Her lips were in a small pout, and Vegeta silently shook his head as she watched her breathe, small puffs of air leaving her mouth in very silent little snores. It seemed that she had cried herself to sleep, and he felt guilt eat at his heart as he moved closer, knowing that what he had been putting her through for the past few days was difficult, but it _had_ to be done.

_“I loved you!”_

Her voice echoed in his head as he watched her, and he swallowed past a painful lump in his throat as he thought about how much he –

How dearly he had loved her, too…

He placed the food down on the table beside her bed, keeping his eyes on her. Laying as she was, her face was nearly fully concealed by her hair, and before he could think, he reached down to very gently pull the hair away, tucking the strands behind her ear.

His heart hammered in his chest as he gazed at her closed eyes, seeing her cheerful blue orbs in his mind’s eye.

_“I loved you. I never forgot about you, Vegeta.”_

Neither had he…

Vegeta knew that, if things had been different, if he and Bulma had been in another lifetime, where they were both in ordinary families, without all the complications of the Syndicate, it was very likely that he would have grown to fall in love with her, that they could have happily raised a family together…

Yet, such meandering thoughts were moot.

He cannot be distracted. He cannot afford to be, when the life of his brother was on the line.

It was very likely that Raditz was out there, completely unaware of the danger that he was in, unknowing of the fact that the Syndicate could locate him at any moment.

He needed to remember his goal of finding Raditz, and Bulma’s father held the key.

Her father, who had helped carry out the hit on his parents, when the Boss became paranoid about a ridiculous “prophecy” about him and his brothers.

The Boss…

Frieza Kold.

With a growl, he pulled his hand away from Bulma, cursing his heart for filling his head with memories of their happier times, dumbly insisting that the woman was his _friend_.

Shaking his head, he turned around, determinedly leaving the room.

If he wanted to succeed, he needed to know… to understand, and accept…

Bulma… was not a friend.

As he recognized the pain that this thought brought to his chest, he clenched his fists, realizing that for as long as he felt some twisted kinship with her, he could never bring himself to cause her harm…

And with his inability to lay a harsh hand on her, he grimly acknowledged that Bulma Briefs… was the _worst_ sort of enemy.

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unlikely ally volunteers to help Vegeta and his crew. With a new source of information at hand, things seem to be going well... until something suddenly goes horribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed this story so far! Here is the next chapter, and I hope you like it!

Bulma stared, mouth agape, barely daring to believe her ears.

“Did you… did you just say-”

“Tch!” Vegeta answered, snidely turning away from her to glare out the open door of the bedroom that had been her prison for the past five days.

“Vegeta,” she treaded carefully, voice barely above a whisper, “Did you honestly just agree to let me go out into the garden?”

His ears looked nearly red from where she was standing, and she saw him bristle as he turned away from her, beginning to walk out into the hall.

“Hurry up,” he hissed, “before I change my mind.”

She squealed excitedly, jumping up and down in place for a few seconds before she practically flew over to the door, unbelievably happy to be allowed out for the first time in days.

“Thank you!” she exclaimed, hands waving around in merriment.

“Don’t thank me, woman,” he said. “I am only letting you out because you are turning rather pale. It would not do for you to get sick. Your father will not negotiate with me if I hand him a dying hostage.”

She hid a wide smile behind her hands as she looked at his back, at the fine hairs that bordered the nape of his thick neck.

She had only been asking him for a small gap in a window so she can breathe in some fresh air, but his sudden decision to allow her to see the sun outdoors shocked her beyond anything she had seen in her entire life.

It was almost euphoric, the feeling of walking along a hallway, and she beamed as she saw the sun streaming in through the wide open windows of the extremely unassuming house.

It occurred to her then, that this could be a good chance… a chance to find a way to worm herself into Vegeta’s graces so that she could make it out alive, unharmed. Perhaps all she needed was to simply play along…

The small structure, like she had previously observed when she was first dragged in, looked nothing like what one would expect from a secret hideout of gangsters.

It was a typical home, with white walls and smooth wooden floors, and the upper floor that she had been on had a long hallway lined with several bedrooms. Downstairs, a standard set of comfortable-looking armchairs sat in the living room. A round wooden table, able to seat six people, sat in the middle of the dining room, and beyond it was a nondescript kitchen that Bulma could see had a simple stove and a large refrigerator.

As she walked a few paces behind Vegeta, she once again saw the picnic table that she had seen before, where a small group of men sat, huddled seriously over a laptop computer.

The thin, dark-haired man with the narrow, icy blue eyes looked up, and she watched as clear surprise flooded his stoic face at the sight of her.

“Prince,” he said, turning to Vegeta, who had stopped walking before her. “What is going on here?”

 Vegeta sniffed, moving his hands into the pockets of his pants, his matching dark gray suit jacket bunching up slightly with the movements.

She thought she heard a light, tinkering sound as he moved, like coins moving around in a purse…

Or keys jiggling around in a pocket.

She was suddenly reminded of her keys, her keys that held her beloved memento of her childhood friend Vegeta, the tiny space pod toy that she had clutched to herself during all of her darkest hours.

She dearly hoped that they had just left her keys in her flat, instead of throwing them away, because whatever may happen now… she wanted that toy back. _Needed_ it back. 

“She needed exercise,” Vegeta answered, pulling her thoughts back to the present, and Bulma nearly grinned as she saw the remaining men shoot questioning glances at their leader.

Goku, who had been sitting near the edge of the table, was the only one who looked up and beamed at her without hesitation.

“Come on out, then!” he called with a slight wave. “The weather is great!”

“Chaotzu,” Vegeta barked, and she watched as a short, pale man with small round eyes bounded up from behind the other men.

Vegeta gestured to her. “Watch her.”

With a nod, the man walked up to Bulma, while she looked back up at Vegeta with a wide grin.

“Thank you,” she said, following Chaotzu, until she stood happily in the middle of the small garden, a few meters away from the men.

She walked aimlessly around the yard, quickly removing her shoes so she could feel the grass between her toes, and with a small, happy sigh, she looked skyward.

Tilting her head up, she closed her eyes, and spread her arms.

She knew what she looked like at the moment: a ditzy girl who was focused on nature, simply enjoying the feel of the sun on her skin.

Yet, she did not grow up in a crime family for nothing.

Though she seemed outwardly oblivious, she discreetly strained her ears back towards Vegeta, trying to listen in on the conversations.

She had been locked up with nothing to do for far too long, and in that time, she had repeatedly gone over the events of the night of her abduction in her head, replaying the vivid memories of what was an admittedly terrifying night.

If only they had given her a book or a TV, like she had asked, maybe she wouldn’t have had the time to analyze them! She should be thankful that they denied her requests then, because due to their stubbornness, she had all the time in the world to think, and now, she knew those men, and had an idea as to what their functions were in the team.

Vegeta was the clear leader.

Goku, his brother, was their gopher.

The dark-haired man, whom she could recall as having been called Lapiz, was their tech and weapons expert.

The tall man with the white turban was Piccolo, their executioner.

Only the other bald man, with a strange X-mark on his forehead, was unknown to her.

Breathing softly, but deeply, Bulma listened.

8-8-8-8-8

“Are you trying to tell me,” Vegeta growled, “that we are now _certain_ that Freiza’s crew is on the move?”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” Tien responded, the X-shaped scar on his forehead wrinkling as his brows furrowed. He turned towards Vegeta, handing him an A4-sized sheet of paper.

Kakarot moved closer to him, reading the contents of the sheet over his shoulder, and both brothers grew panicked as they read the contents.

It was an email, containing a few, vital words:

_The Dark Prince has risen._

They knew that he was back. And that was not good. Not good, at all.

Briefs, the snitch, had apparently gone to the Syndicate with the information, in spite of the clear threat on Bulma’s life.

Vegeta seethed, hands tight on the edges of the paper. It seemed that nothing truly was sacred to Briefs, who would risk his own daughter’s life just to remain in the mob’s graces.

“Don’t look so glum, fellas,” Tien said. “At least the information had not gotten to Frieza, himself, as of yet.”

“I don’t understand why they didn’t tell Frieza. And I can’t believe that Briefs would just tattle,” Kakarot said, eyes wide. “I mean, we have his daughter here!”

“And Briefs clearly does not give a fuck, whatever happens to her,” Vegeta hissed. “What kind of a fucking father is he?”

He turned to Piccolo, whose narrowed eyes were scanning the contents of Lapiz’s laptop, while Lapiz sat before the computer, madly typing onto only the Gods knew what.

“Piccolo, are you done checking out Tao Pai Pai’s lead? Is it any good?” he asked.

Piccolo nodded. “It is a solid lead. But we need to be careful. Frieza’s crew could easily pay off anyone with ties to that building, and as much money as you have, Vegeta, the Syndicate still has deeper pockets.”

Kakarot blanched. “Well, now what? If they know that Vegeta is searching for Raditz, then they would definitely want to get to him first!”

“Perhaps they will try searching for Kakarot first, and this will divert them?” Vegeta said, cringing at the desperation he could hear in his tone. “After all, they do not know that he is back yet, right?”

“Not quite,” Lapiz butt in with a heavy sigh, as he finally stopped assaulting his keyboard. “Come and see this.”

It was another email, a coded one from the looks of it, but Vegeta recognized a few key words that made his blood run cold.

_The Bard’s son walks with the Prince._

The Bard.

_Bardock._

Kakarot’s birth father.

“Fuck,” he snapped, angrily turning away from the screen to take his head into his hands.

Had it been happening to anyone other than him, he would have laughed at how juvenile the code words were.

 _Prince_?

 _Bard_?

How much more obvious can they get?

Yet, he failed to find amusement in the rampant stupidity, as he was troubled at how quickly the information had spread.

Kakarot’s earlier question was yet another undetermined factor in the whole thing…

Why did no one let Frieza know?

It was as if the entire Syndicate itself was in their own little conspiracy, keeping something as huge as the knowledge of his return a secret from the big boss, himself.

What did it all mean?

“If the whole crew knows by now,” Vegeta said, a hand still anxiously rubbing the center of his forehead as he felt the stirrings of a headache start to come forth. “What do you all suggest we do?”

Lapiz laughed. “Are we being democratic now?”

“Fuck you, Lapiz,” He spat. “Anyone with any ideas?”

Piccolo straightened. “We need to create a diversion, but it needs to be one that will serve more of a purpose than simple bait.”

“I think,” Kakarot said, “That we need to find a way to prevent them from knowing more about us.”

“Should we try to confuse them? Leave a false trail?” Lapiz asked.

“No,” Vegeta answered. “We cannot run the risk of getting in contact with anyone, because we do not know exactly who is in league with the Syndicate. We need to ensure that we do not mistakenly run into someone who is loyal to Frieza.”

“That we do,” Tien said. “But how do we do that when the entire criminal underground is on Frieza’s payroll?”

Vegeta’s brows shot further down. “Men, we need to expedite our Plan C.”

A grin spread across Piccolo’s face. “Now, we’re talking.”

Vegeta nodded. “It’s time to disable them. If we get rid of his main source of income, the cash stops-”

“And the proverbial shit will hit the fan,” Tien nodded sagely.

“But are we ready?” Kakarot asked. “Wasn’t Lapiz still trying to get more intel?”

“I may already have enough to go by,” the said dark-haired man answered. “We know that the Casino is the Syndicate’s front for their high-end prostitution ring. But we still have yet to figure out how to make this explode so that the authorities can get enough evidence in their hands to prosecute.”

“The Oasis.”

Vegeta stiffened as a loud, but profoundly feminine voice suddenly entered their conversation.

He rapidly spun around, and found none other than Bulma, standing several meters away from them, hands on her hips, while she kept her face up to the sky.

His furious eyes quickly turned to Chaotzu, who had paled considerably, before they shot back to the woman one again.

“What,” Vegeta hissed, “Did you say?”

He watched as she shook her head, before she turned around, infuriatingly slowly, to face them all.

She lifted an eyebrow as she faced them, a smug expression on her face as she looked pointedly at each of them in turn.

“Do you guys have any idea how loud you were being?” she asked. “You were ruining my sunning time!”

He grit his teeth in rage. “Bullshit. You were actively listening in!”

“And you should be glad I was!” Bulma answered, leaning her weight onto one leg as she glared at him. “Because I know exactly how to screw with the Casino.”

Vegeta sputtered. “You crazy woman! You think we need _your_ help-”

“You have to destroy the Oasis,” she insisted, walking closer to them as she spoke. “The Oasis is the mainframe that holds all of the Syndicate’s confidential information, and it has the list of all the businesses involved in their protection rackets. It also has a complete list of all the people that benefit from the Syndicate.”

Vegeta was about to protest, when he felt a firm hand land on his shoulder.

He turned to see Lapiz, whose cold blue eyes had grown wide as he stared intently at Bulma.

“The Oasis is the database that I have been trying to access,” Lapiz said. “It is an impenetrable system. I can barely bypass two firewalls.”

Bulma beamed. “I can help you with that.”

“Woman!” Vegeta yelled. “You think we will trust you with such a thing?”

She shrugged. “I have nothing to gain other than my freedom.”

“You-”

“I _will_ help you find Raditz,” she said, shooting Vegeta a determined glare.

Vegeta crossed his arms before his chest. He was rather dumbfounded at how she could still manage to speak so dominantly in spite of being a hostage, but he supposed, this _was_ Bulma. It was to be expected.

“You could just as easily send a signal to them regarding our whereabouts,” he said. “Double-cross us all… your family certainly has the history.”

She stomped her foot, hands in tiny fists at her sides. “We did not double-cross you! Vegeta, I will do everything I need to do to prove to you that my family and I had nothing to do with neither your parents’ deaths, nor with the abduction of Raditz and Kakarot.”

“We could certainly use her mind, Vegeta,” Lapiz interjected. “If what we know of her is correct, then she may very well be what we need.”

“Ridiculous,” Vegeta hissed, “You know what she did.”

Lapiz shook his head. “What Nappa said… you never did manage to verify the information, did you?”

“No, but-”

“Can I… say something?”

Vegeta turned around to see Kakarot, and he raised a brow at the unreadable look in his brother’s eyes.

“What is it, Kakarot?”

“I think… I think we should give it a shot,” he said, swiping his unruly bangs from his face. “She’s right, she has nothing to lose. Besides, Lapiz will be right with her.”  

“Also,” Piccolo chimed in, “If she tries anything funny, now that we know that her father would rather have her die than give us the information, we could always just kill her.”

“Umm, you know what, you don’t need to plan my death, really,” Bulma said, waving a hand above her head. “I won’t sell you out, I swear.”

“I don’t like this,” Tien said. “She’s the enemy, isn’t she, Vegeta?”

Vegeta looked askance at Tien then, and considered.

She was…

Wasn’t she?

“Listen,” Bulma tried again, taking a few steps closer to them with her hands held out placatingly before her. “I seriously just want this all to end. I want my freedom, not just from you, but from the entire Syndicate. Believe me, helping you take down the Syndicate is in my best interests too.”

Vegeta scoffed. “You were raised as the spoiled rich daughter of a politician. Why would you want to take down the people who had given you everything you could ever wish for?”

They were all taken aback when Bulma began to laugh.

“You think I _liked_ it?” she said, shaking her head as she almost cackled with ironic glee. “Vegeta, you and I… we had known that we were surrounded by criminals since we were in first grade. I had to live with the knowledge that everybody knew what kind of family I came from, but were too afraid to say anything.”

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her, and he was about to just order someone to drag her back into her room when she hurriedly resumed speaking.

“I may not have gone through what all of you here,” she gestured at all of them, “had endured, but I promise you that my life has been nothing but a good one. I just…”

She sighed. “I just want out. I want a normal life. Where I work to pay my bills, and I don’t have to be flanked by men whose idea of a friendly competition is outnumbering each others’ body counts.”

Vegeta glared at her, trying to see if his lifetime dealing with questionable people could detect even a tiny sliver of deceit in her.

However, all he could see in Bulma was determination, and against his better judgment, he found himself nodding.

He saw her eyes widen in elation, lips stretching into a blinding smile.

Vegeta turned away from her to address Lapiz. “You can keep an eye on her?”

Lapiz nodded. “I will be looking over her shoulder the entire time.”

“Good,” he said. Then, without turning to look at her again, he asked, “Woman, what do you suggest?”

“I am an excellent hacker,” she bragged. “Plus, I have accessed the Oasis before. I am sure that I can find you a vulnerability to exploit, so we can use an implant to duplicate and then clear out the entire system.”

“How did you ever manage to peer into the Oasis?” Lapiz asked.

“I am the daughter of one of the Syndicate’s top men,” she spat, and he could practically smell the distaste in her tone. “It may not be obvious, but I observe and know a lot of things about Frieza.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “If you even consider the possibility of selling my men out-”

“I will not,” she cut him off. “I swear to you, Vegeta. I swear upon the grave of my mother… I will not sell you out.”

8-8-8-8-8

Lapiz led Bulma into one of the rooms, and she felt a brow rise as she looked appraisingly at the equipment.

“Impressive,” she commented, as she approached a particularly expensive-looking terminal. “You have quite a bit of tech here.”

He smirked. “My father was a scientist, as yours is. However, he declined to join the Syndicate’s plans, and he was summarily executed for it. I have been using my inheritance to finance my toys.”

Bulma blanched, even while his face remained calm and cool in the face of such a revelation.

“I- I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “I had no idea.”

He simply shrugged. “It is the way of things. I have accepted my father’s death. But it does not mean that I have no plans to avenge him. This is the reason why I am here.”

She gulped as she looked down at her hands, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “Do… do all of you here have… similar circumstances?”

She felt him move around to stand behind one of the larger monitors.

Lapiz sighed loudly. “Yes. We are all victims of the Syndicate. I and my sister have lost our father. Piccolo had his parents taken away, never to be found again. Tien was tortured, his wife abducted and murdered. And you know of what happened to the Saiyans.”

Bulma gulped, feeling tears rim her eyes as she thought of how all these men, and many, many others, had been wronged by the Syndicate as it reached for power, grasped wealth while leaving all who oppose it to either suffer or die helplessly.

It was madness.

They had to be stopped.

“I will help you destroy the Syndicate. I swear to all of you. You,” she paused. “And to a certain extent, _I,_ will have justice.”

He smirked at her again, and she grinned slowly as she found a strangely teasing glint in his eyes.

“Well then, we had best get to work,” he said, pointing her to a chair in front of the main computer. “Let me see what you’ve really got in that brain of yours, Princess.”

“Can people _please_ stop calling me that?” she growled, rolling her eyes. “I hate it. I have always hated it.”

He laughed. “Then I shall see to it that I use it at every possible turn.”

8-8-8-8-8

Vegeta looked worriedly at Piccolo, watching as the stern man shifted his eyes towards Lapiz’s computer room for the hundredth time in the past three hours.

“What?” he finally snapped, pulling the tall man out of his musings.

Piccolo clucked his tongue, his small eyes finding Vegeta’s. “I am uncomfortable with our little Mafia Princess being in there with Lapiz.”

Kakarot looks up, confused. “Why? She looks like she really wants to help.”

Piccolo scoffed. “She is still a Briefs. Have you both forgotten her part in your parents’ death?”

“That,” Vegeta growled low, “remains unproven.”

“You had been swearing your absolute loathing of her since we met,” Piccolo countered. “What changed? Why are you suddenly so eager to trust her? I think you’re letting your past friendship cloud your decisions.”

Vegeta refused to let go of his glare, but Piccolo’s question gave him pause.

Indeed… why was he acting so… lenient?

Bulma had been part of the mess, she was the one who had given the signal, whether or not there had been malice intended.

Was it _her?_

Was it her mere presence, the strangely disarming look in her wide blue eyes, that had him acting like a fool?

Was he endangering his men because of his stupid recollections of their happy past, risking their entire mission all because the touch of her skin sent tendrils of pleasant shock to run up and down his spine?

Did he dare admit…

That he could feel an unmistakable pull of attraction…

That in spite of his suspicions, in spite of how his logical mind insisted that he should in truth hate her, his insane heart had never let go of his affection towards her, even after all those years?

It was not the time to contemplate on such meaningless things.

“I am not,” he finally responded. “But we do need her inside information. And whether we like it or not, she is a brilliant woman. We need all the help we can get, now that the Syndicate knows that we are on the move.”

“You are absolutely right,” a smooth, feminine voice suddenly cut in, and all turned to see a gorgeous, statuesque blond woman with very familiar icy blue eyes approaching from the garden.

“Lazuli,” Kakarot greeted. “I thought you would be with Krillin today.”

She shrugged. “My boyfriend is off training for an upcoming police drill, so I snuck out.

 “We haven’t seen you since you drove Vegeta’s getaway vehicle at the condominium,” Piccolo said. “Did you need to see Lapiz?”

“No. I just spoke to that brat of a brother of mine earlier,” she answered, flipping her hair back as she sat beside Vegeta at the table. “But I dropped by because I needed to tell you all something.”

“What is wrong, Lazuli?” Vegeta asked.

She frowned deeply. “Well… I am pregnant.”

“What?!” Kakarot shrilled, and Vegeta watched as he jumped up from his seat in his excitement. “Wow, congratulations! Why didn’t Krillin tell me?”

“Because he doesn’t know yet,” she hissed. “But I needed to tell you because unfortunately, I can no longer join you in your heists. I am really sorry to bail out on you like this, but I need to… I need to take care of my child, and Krillin. I will still keep an eye out, still try to find more information when you need it, but I can no longer commit to this, not anymore. ”

“That’s right,” Vegeta nodded thougtfully. “Krillin does not know of your little adventures with us.”

“No, he does not,” Lazuli answered. “I don’t want to compromise him and his job at the force. Krillin… he is a genuinely good man.”

“Yeah, he is,” Kakarot responded. “I’ve known him for over a decade. It would be unfair to rope him into this.”

“He is the best thing that ever happened to me, since I met you all,” she smirked.

“Are you sure about this?” Piccolo asked. “We’re not done yet, you still have yet to avenge your father. Also, you have been a huge asset to this operation, and it would be difficult to have you leave the team now.”

“No, she is right. Her family needs to be her priority. All of us here know what it is like to have no family. We cannot deprive Lazuli of a chance to build hers,” Vegeta said. He knotted his brows as he considered Lazuli, their femme fatale, who had helped them with their underground operations with the use of her impressive looks. “You had best go on then. Stay as far away from the operations as possible. We have almost made it, and we owe much of that to you.”

“Well, I had wanted to do one last thing before I disappear,” she said. “Lapiz called me about possibly retrieving something from the Princess’ apartment. I think he needs it for a program he is working on with Bulma Briefs. Did I understand him correctly? He is working with Briefs on a code?”

Vegeta nodded, along with Piccolo and Kakarot, and Lazuli simply shrugged.

“What did he ask you to retrieve? And why did he not run it through me, first?” Vegeta asked.

“He wanted to, but he said he could not leave the girl alone in his computer room,” she responded. “He asked me to see if I can retrieve Briefs’ keys.”

Vegeta stiffened.

His hand snuck slowly into his pocket, where he still had the said keys, hung with the small spaceship toy and a mini flash drive.

The small, round toy felt strangely comforting in his palm, and he clenched his fist around it, his chest lurching at the thought of letting it go once again.

“Why does he need the keys?” Kakarot asked.

“The woman apparently told him that the keychain holds a flash drive that has some codes she can use to access Oasis,” Lazuli answered.

Vegeta straightened at that. “No need, Lazuli. I can provide them with this flash drive.”

Piccolo looked surprised. “You wanna go out to the condo now? We leave for the warehouse in a few hours.”

“Just leave it to me,” Vegeta answered, getting up to move towards the computer room. “Keep on working on the plan. I will not be gone for long.”

He turned to Lazuli, giving her a small salute. “Thank you for your assistance. Now, go. Your growing family _must_ be your utmost priority.”

As he approached the door that held Bulma and Lapiz, he took a deep breath, hoping that the woman does not ask too many questions, as he was not sure how he could possibly answer.

He did not know himself, why he had kept the keys, after all.

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma was growing anxious.

It had been several hours since Vegeta had dropped by to see her and Lapiz, stiffly handing her keys to her.

She had been shocked, and she had stared at him, eyes wide and unblinking, as she wondered aloud at how he had gotten her keys so fast.

He had turned away, leaving without a word, and it was as she watched his reddened cheeks disappear behind the hastily slammed door that she realized…

He had taken her keys.

He had taken it, kept it, after they had abducted her.

Her heart leapt with joy as she grinned widely, looking down at the spherical trinket that she had treasured for years, incredulous understanding washing over her.

He had recognized the toy. He remembered.

Surely he remembered how he had marked it with his initials using one of their kitchen knives, and she had chastised him about how using a knife in such a way was dangerous.

How he had carried it around all the time, even when they were at school.

How he had accidentally left it behind in her bedroom as they played a video game, and she had kept it on her desk so she could hand it back to him the next time he visited.

How she had never had the chance to return it, because on the following evening, she had been on the edge of a gunfight, the gunfight that they later told her had claimed the life of her dear friend.

That toy had helped her pull herself together, as she had clutched it reverently in her palms every night for months after Vegeta’s supposed death, crying her eyes out at the painful knowledge that she would never see him again.

Shifting her focus back to the present, she stared blankly at the screen, distracted.

It had been too long, with no message from any one, and she knew that Lapiz, beside her, was also concerned.

“Where, exactly, did you say they went, again?” she asked him, trying to see if conversation can put her at ease.

“They went to the edges of the city to scope out an abandoned building that had once been used by the Syndicate for their trafficking operations,” he said. “Tien said that they may have some files there that could contain information on Raditz’s whereabouts.”

This did not assuage her worry at all, as she felt the beating of her heart refuse to slow.

She had gotten a sudden jolt about an hour ago, an inexplicable shot of adrenaline that came from out of nowhere.

She was… worried.

She had a sinking feeling that the mission was about to go terribly wrong.

That is, if it hadn’t, yet.

“And they haven’t called you yet?” she asked.

He shook his head, his face a placid mask.

Bulma had spent enough of her life with hardened criminals, and was easily able to tell when a person was feigning nonchalance.

He was worried, too, and this set Bulma on edge.

She was about to speak again, when a sudden commotion coming from downstairs had them both shooting to their feet, and she saw a look of worry flit through Lapiz’s face before he quickly covered it up with a frown.

She turned her attention to the door, and the panicked voice of Goku yelling something made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Lapiz,” she turned back to him, feeling her blood drain from her face.

He nodded, before he hastily grabbed her by the arm, pulling her along with him to the entryway downstairs.

As they reached the landing, the sight that greeted Bulma nearly made her scream, but she clamped a firm hand over her lips, the other moving to hold her chest, as she felt her heart try to lurch out through her ribs.

It took only a moment for her to assess the sight.

Goku was madly pulling the small cushions off the couch, while Piccolo stumbled in, a bloody, unconscious body slung heavily over his shoulder.

The dark, flame-like hair fanning limply over the slumped head was unmistakable, and Bulma felt her throat catch, unable to keep her hysteria in as her eyes widened in horror.

“Oh no,” she whispered, before her voice broke in a horrified scream…

“Vegeta!” she cried, flying down the stairs, tripping over herself in her haste to get to him while Piccolo and Goku laid him down on the couch.

“Vegeta!” she called again as she knelt down beside him, staring in horror at the blood that flowed fluidly down his temples, unaware of anything else as she stared in desperation at his closed eyes. “No! Goku, what happened?!”

She dared not take her eyes off of her injured friend while she listened to Goku.

“The small building… there really were files about Raditz,” he said, “but the place was rigged, and Vegeta got caught in the debris from the explosion while we tried to get away.”

She pressed her hand to a particularly ugly wound on Vegeta’s arm, watching as he stayed still as death upon the couch.

Tears filled her eyes, and she shook her head in denial.

“No,” she gasped, feeling numb inside as memories of the last time she had believed him to be dead rushed through her mind.

“Please tell me he’ll be alright!” she heard herself begin to lose control as she stared, helpless, while Lapiz ran forward with an assortment of bandages, panic clear in his usually calm blue gaze.

It was too much, and Bulma’s eyes overflowed with tears when Vegeta remained unresponsive.

“I can’t lose Vegeta,” she cried, “Please! Not again!”

Yet, he remained unmoving…

8-8-8-8-8

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma learns more about Vegeta's life after the death of his parents, and she is now more determined than ever to help him destroy the Syndicate. Meanwhile, Vegeta is in turmoil over the life he wants, and the duty that he needs to fulfill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really excited, this story is now past the half-way point! I hope you are all enjoying it so far. Please do drop me a line and tell me what you think!

The door opened to reveal a tall, large bald man, and Bulma squinted as the sight of him triggered a foggy memory from the back of her mind.

She had been seated beside Vegeta’s bed, gently wiping the sweat that flowed slowly down his temple, mixing with the blood that seeped out the sides of the bandages from his various injuries. 

The injuries were bad, but not as severe as she had feared when the men first brought him in.

Various cuts and bruises littered his body, with the largest one being a thick gash across his chest.

After she had her mini-breakdown upon his return, she had straightened up and tried to recall what little she could remember from an EMT course that she had attended out of boredom nearly ten years earlier.

It astounded her, how blurry her remembrance of the lessons were, when she was faced with treating the injuries of someone she…

Someone she… _cared_ about.

After they had removed the various debris and splinters, she heaved a relieved sigh at how shallow some cuts had actually been, and with Vegeta being unconscious, she had checked him repeatedly for the possibility of a concussion, feeling around to see if he could have possibly broken any bones. They had also given him some morphine for the pain, and Bulma was constantly checking his vital signs to ensure that he was doing alright.

They could not bring him to a hospital, as there would be too many questions, and Vegeta, for all legal purposes, was still supposed to be dead.

From Piccolo’s account, it was the impact from when Vegeta had been thrown against a concrete wall that had knocked him out cold.

He was a “tough motherfucker”, Piccolo had said, as Vegeta had actively thrown himself in the direct path of the blast to roughly kick Goku out of the way of the explosion.

Bulma had to suppress a smile at that. Vegeta really hadn’t changed, no matter how much he tried to convince her that he was different.

She could still remember the child Vegeta as he ran across the yard, screaming bloody murder so that the bigger dogs would come and tackle him instead of her during playtime.

She can still recall how he had taken the fall for her when she broke one of Panchy’s large vases, how he had steadfastly lied to her mother just so she would not get into trouble.

Vegeta was a caring person, a noble man, and Bulma knew that the unyielding exterior he put out was a front to keep appearances, to instill fear and respect into the hearts of enemies and allies, alike.

Right then, however, Bulma peeled her gaze away from him to unabashedly study the gigantic man who had just walked into the bedroom where Vegeta had been brought to after the worst of the wounds had been treated.

She knew this man, and from the stony, angry look in his hard eyes, Bulma was convinced that he knew her as well.

She opened her mouth to ask who he was, but he sneered at her, rudely grimacing before he spoke.

“What the fuck are _you_ doing here, Briefs?”

She stiffened. “I am watching my _friend._ Who are you?”

“Who am I?” he asked, lips twisting into a hateful snarl. “I’m just the guy who looked after Vegeta after you and your people started fucking his life up.”

“Excuse me-”

“Why are you with him now? Come to finish job?” he asked mutinously, and Bulma felt a sliver of fear crawl through her when she saw his huge hands ball into fists.

Clearly, the man _hated_ her.

“I mean him no harm,” she hissed through clenched teeth, trying to keep her voice low so as not to rouse Vegeta.

She cast as sidelong glance at him before she spun her gaze back to the giant before her. “I am here to watch over him.”

The large man laughed at that. “Funny, since _I_ watched over him all these years because your family killed his family off.”

“We did _no such thing,”_ she snarled. “Vegeta is my friend. Always has been.”

“Your father was Vegeta Sr.’s friend too, and look how _that_ ended up.”

The spark of familiarity in Bulma’s mind flickered into a flame, and her eyes widened as she finally recognized the hulking man.

“You’re Nappa. Vegeta’s father’s right hand,”’ she muttered.

“Oh, you remember,” he smirked. “I guess, aside from your father’s treachery, you must have gotten his brains, too.”

“What are you even talking about?!”

“You sold Vegeta out,” Nappa snarled accusingly. “You gave the signal for the attack!”

Bulma gasped. “Ex-excuse me?”

“Bitch,” he said. “You think we wouldn’t find out? You were the one who told your father that Vegeta Sr., was out with Vegeta. That gave them the chance to take out Gine, Kakarot and Raditz.”

“How d-dare you!” she sputtered. “I would never-”

“Deny it all you want, but we know,” he said. “You-”

“This utter _rubbish_ ,” she said, and Bulma heard her voice quiver when she began to piece some things together, some things that did not make sense to her, regarding Vegeta’s treatment of her. “Have you been feeding this rubbish to Vegeta all this time?”

She seethed, and she felt her teeth grind painfully in her anger as she stood, advancing towards the man who was easily twice her size.

“You’ve been telling Vegeta all this, for all these years? Is this why he hates me, treats me like I- like I betrayed him? What the fuck else have you been telling him?!” she asked, feeling her hands tighten into fists.

She wanted so badly to hit his smug face, right in his big nose. “How dare you,” she hissed, “I was _nine._ I had never been part of all this shit. I am his friend, and though yes, I knew that the two of them were out that day, I never _ratted them out._ I was devastated with what happened to them, and I am here to find out who had really done him wrong, because it sure as fuck was not _me.”_

He smirked. “You are part of it, whether you like it or not, and I just want to let you know that whatever the Syndicate had planned, it won’t work. We will succeed. Vegeta and his brothers will fulfill their destinies, together, as they should.”

“Do you even realize how little sense you are making?” she asked, desperately trying to keep her voice low, even as every fiber of her wanted to scream at the infuriating man. “I was never part of such a conspiracy! I don’t even understand what this is all about!”

“The conspiracy to destroy the Saiyans,” he said. “All because that crazy old witch at the casino said that they would someday lead the Syndicate. They fucked up the Saiyan family just because of a ridiculous superstition.”

Bulma stared. “They… they… what?”

“Old Uranai,” Nappa said, “drunk off her ass, took a look at Vegeta, Kakarot and Raditz at a dinner with Frieza and declared that the three brothers, together, will have the power to take over the Syndicate, and Frieza had them neutralized soon after.”

“ _Old Uranai?_ ” Bulma thought.

She remembered Uranai, vaguely.

The old woman, barely four feet tall and shrouded with dried, stringy hair atop her wrinkled head, was the Syndicate’s muse before she had died. She had foretold the success of the Casino, had predicted everything from gambling scores to targets of police operations.

The Syndicate had seen Uranai as something of an oracle.

If she had said such a thing about the brothers, then Bulma could see how the rest of the Syndicate could have believed it, and why Frieza had quickly moved to destroy the Saiyans.

The presence of the brothers could very well lead to a shift in leadership, to men taking sides, and this… this would not have been acceptable to Frieza, at all.

“I… I get it now,” she whispered, almost to herself. “This all happened because Frieza was… he was afraid that the Saiyans would overthrow him as the boss of the Syndicate…”

She felt an overwhelming mix of sadness, pity and anger wash over her, and Bulma could do nothing more than look back at the prone form of Vegeta, as she felt her lips tremble in sorrow at what her friend had to endure…

Such senseless pain, all because of the careless words of a sloshed old woman.

She stared into Nappa’s strangely beady eyes, and mustering up all of her heart, she spoke to him again.

“Nappa, listen to me,” she said. “I know that you believe I was part of all this, and I know I would not be able to convince you otherwise of it today. But… know that I am here, not just to prove to Vegeta that I never, ever betrayed him, but also…”

She sighed, glancing at the injured man again.

“Also,” she continued, “Because I want to be here _for_ Vegeta. And it is probably too much to ask, but I just beg you to please, let me prove to him - to you - that I will never do anything to hurt him. I intend to help him find Raditz, and I want you to _watch_ as I do.”

8-8-8-8-8

Pain.

Vegeta was definitely no stranger to pain, but waking up in a world of nothing but blinding aches never seemed to wear on him.

It still sucked, every single time.

He could feel stinging sensations along his arms, on the sides of his cheeks, and though a large part of him wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep, he defiantly forced his eyes open, blearily blinking through a haze that made him feel like he was spinning.

The first thing he saw was the pale cream ceiling, zooming in and out of focus while he stubbornly widened his gaze.

Soft rustling off to his side alerted him to the presence of someone else in the room, and he winced as he tried to turn his head, trying to follow the soft, hushed sounds of gentle footfalls upon the floor, the careful rustling of paper and plastic.

A gentle flow of blue, fluid and graceful, swayed gently in the air.

He watched, mesmerized, the fog in his mind unable to fully comprehend what he was seeing, but the cool color was enough to calm him down. He felt the choking edge in his chest begin to ebb away, and he laid mystified by how the blurry sight of the sky-like hue made him feel… _relieved._

That color made him think that he was no longer in harm’s way, and as his mental faculties slowly returned to him amidst the sea of suffering, he found his mouth fumbling around with a single word…

“Bulma…”

The rasped, hoarse sound scratched its way out of his throat, and he remained confused as to why this was the only thing on his mind, finding its way to the fore by being the first word out of his lips.

His whispered call was apparently loud enough to be heard, and he watched the blue curtain swirl, and his vision cleared just as the form took shape, and he finally understood the vision that had greeted him upon waking.

It was _her._

She gasped, before a wide smile spread across her cherry pink lips, and he found her stumbling towards him hurriedly, falling onto her knees beside his bed, her fingers reaching to clutch gently at his free hand.

She was speaking, soft, lilted words that he strained to hear amidst the painful pounding of his temples, her voice a sweet melody that was coaxing him back from beyond.

“-some water? Food?” he heard her ask, and he tried to speak around the lump in his chest, brought forth by the sight of the agonizing depth of her clear blue eyes.

“…water,” he rasped, and she nodded, quickly getting up to fetch a small glass from the top of a nearby table.

Vegeta felt her warm, fragile fingers snake gently beneath his head, down his upper back, until she was helping him sit slightly so he could take a few sips of water.

He groaned at the pain in his limbs as he tried to sit up, the stinging sensations upon his skin, but the soft touch of her fingers soothed him, lulled him into a state near euphoria, and he tried to keep his mind off the hurt, to concentrate on the smooth glide of her hand on his back and shoulders.

He drank slowly, pulling away when he had taken enough, and she placed the glass down before she helped him lay back once more, stacking a few pillows behind him so he could lay back against the headboard.

She was so soft, so… gentle, and Vegeta marveled at how her electrifying touch made his chest feel light, cherished.

It was as he gazed at her that he understood…

_Care…_

There was so much care in her touch, and he luxuriated in the feeling of being _cared_ for, something that had been sparse to him since his parents – especially, his _mother,_ Gine _–_ were killed.

He had been injured many times before, his life put into the hands of Nappa and many other different people. Yet, while they had all done their parts in restoring him to health, he did not recall any of them ever putting this much thought and gentleness in their healing.

Bulma was _taking care_ of him.

He glanced down at himself, only to find himself shirtless, bound in strips of gauze across his chest and arms, and he surreptitiously lifted the white blanket over his lap, peering in to find himself nude save for a pair of boxers.

A juvenile, self-conscious part of his brain piped up, wondering stupidly if Bulma had been the one to undress him… and if she had liked what she had seen.

He shook his head clear of his imbecilic thoughts, focusing on Bulma. He wanted to speak, but his voice and mind failed him, and he helplessly floundered around his own head, grunting out the first words that came to him while he sat flustered by the sight of her pale arms soothing the blankets around his form.

“Where are your guards?” he found himself asking, and if he wasn’t so injured, he would have bashed his head back against the wall from the sheer stupidity of his question.

He had expected her to be offended, but instead, she laughed, a small, twittering sound that seemed too cheerful in such a dreary situation.

“Don’t worry, Nappa is outside the door,” she said with a chuckle as she sat at a stool beside the bed. “I did assure them that I don’t intend to run away.”

He felt the wounds in his arms tingle, and as he did, he finally remembered what had injured him in the first place.

“Kakarot… ” he croaked. “Is he alright?”

He recalled being in the abandoned building, crumbling but rife with traps… the files in boxes all over the basement, the old micro floppy diskettes stacked beside a very old computer…

Them accidentally tripping one of the traps as they ran, Kakarot right in the path of the small explosion…

His brother was going to get caught in the explosion, shredded by the shrapnel from the blast…

He had leapt forward unthinkingly, tackling Kakarot out of the way…

“He’s fine,” Bulma answered, “thanks to you. He was inconsolable earlier, so Piccolo dosed him with something to make him calm down. He is downstairs, right now.”

“And the files?” he asked.

He had risked his life for those damn files.

“Also downstairs,” she said. “Goku has them, and he had been going over them.”

His eyes widened, and he began to push himself up with one hand, halting when Bulma rushed to push him back down.

“Are you insane?” she scolded, “You are not getting up, not in this condition.”

“Kakarot cannot be left alone with those files,” he said, “He needs a lot of help if he is to try to _analyze_ anything.”

She burst into laughter at that, and Vegeta stared dumbly as her eyes closed in glee, her hands flying up to muffle the sounds.

“Vegeta,” she said. “Of course he isn’t alone with the files. Lapiz and Lazuli are with him, and I was also lending a hand earlier. You need to rest and stop worrying. We are all here to help.”

Her words gave him pause, and he looked into her eyes, brows furrowed low.

“Why… why _are_ you helping us?” he asked. “You are our prisoner. This compliance… all this… It does not make sense to me.”

He hesitated as the look she gave him, her lips pursed softly as her nose twitched in slight irritation. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off, saying, “You… confuse me”

“What is there to be confused about?” she asked him. “I am here to help you, because… because I want to.”

She looked away from him, biting her bottom lip as she stared sightlessly out the bulletproof windows, at the too-cheerful day beyond their dark abode.

“Why?” he asked again. “I abducted you. You should be screaming, fighting… that you are not trying to kill me makes no sense, not after you had-”

He stopped, and this time, he looked away as he found her spinning back to pin him with a hard glare.

“After I had, what?” she demanded. “After I had, what, Vegeta?”

He gulped, refusing to answer.

Yet, she was insistent. “After I sold you out? Is that what you were going to say?”

He kept his gaze away.

“Because let me just clarify this for you, you stubborn oaf,” she seethed. “I _didn’t._ I never did. And I never _will.”_

“How could you expect me to just believe-”

“I don’t,” she cut him off. “I don’t expect you to believe me. After all, it seems to me like you had spent the last twenty years believing that I ratted you out. But… I want to prove to you that I didn’t. And I will start by doing everything in my power to help you find Raditz.”

“Bulma…” he whispered, before he hesitantly turned back to face her, and he drew back at the determination he could see in her eyes.

“I see that you, and this little group you have built, could really stand a chance against the Syndicate,” she said. “And don’t think that I am not as confounded by all this as you are. I know that this is strange, and logically, I should really be running as far away from you as possible…”

He stared at her, willing her to continue.

He wanted to know, to ascertain… that this ridiculous closeness that he could sometimes feel clawing out of his heart to reach for her…

That it wasn’t just _him._

“ I feel… _connected_ to you,” she muttered, a dark flush covering her cheeks as she confessed, and Vegeta, as surprised as he was pleased, felt heat overcome his own face, making him look down at his fists that clenched convulsively against his blankets.

“So, I want to help,” she said, and he glanced back at her in time to see her smile, scooting slightly from her chair and leaning forward, tucking the white blanket more securely around his bare torso. “I want to find Raditz too. I remember him, from when he was just a tiny baby. He was so cute, with those huge eyes, and a thick clump of hair at the top of his head…”

Vegeta felt the edges of his lips tug up into a small grin as he too, remembered. “Yes. And he was strong, for such a little baby. He was able to turn over onto his back and front before he was four months old. He was also rather large, if I remember correctly.”

Bulma smiled, and Vegeta couldn’t help the widening of his own grin when she began speaking again. “He was! Your puppies were terrified of him!”

“Ah, the puppies, yes,” he answered, laying back heavily onto his pillow, feeling his mouth twist into a grin as he recalled his youth. “They probably never expected such a tiny thing to crawl so quickly.”

“Rad was never tiny, if you ask me,” she laughed again, the sound like bells to his ears, and for just a moment, Vegeta pretended that he was back in their old family garden, playing on the swings with Bulma by his side, her laughter ringing merrily in the air.

He could see it clearly in his mind’s eye, her brilliant smile as he pushed her on the swings, the way she beamed while she played with the pets that they had…

How she frowned when he beat her at computer games, and how he would make her smile by offering her chocolates or purposely letting her win on the next turn.

She was, his closest and dearest friend.

And though he was raised to believe that she had never been truly loyal to him, looking at her now, made Vegeta realize that, the whole time, he had, deep in his heart, always rejected the notion that his best friend would just leave him to die.

He had never, not even once, truly wanted to believe that his Bulma would have hurt him in any way.

She had always been in his heart, a cherished memory from a past long-forgotten.

Trying to hate her had been futile, as she was as dear to him as Kakarot and Raditz were.

The comfort he felt from her mere presence, was just as much a part of him as the pain and violence that shrouded his life after he went on the run.

He did not understand why, after all the years they had been apart, his heart still yearned for her, needed her in ways he cannot begin to describe.

A stray lock of hair fell into her eyes, and he lifted a hand, helpless against the overwhelming urge to push it back.

His hand softly brushed her skin as he tucked the blue tendrils behind her ear, and he heard her small intake of breath as a lovely pink tinged the apples of her cheeks.

“Ve-Vegeta…” she whispered, and he was not fast enough to pull back before she held his hand in her soft palms.

His soul cried at the feel of her softness on him, the gentle relief of her touch a sharp contrast to the physical pain from his injuries. Before he could think about what he was doing, he let his fingers curl against hers, twining slightly with her fragile fingers, before he pulled away, clenching his hand into a fist upon the blankets covering his torso.

This… this could not be.

“I,” he growled softly. “I need to be alone for a while.”

Her eyes looked pained as he drew away, and though she looked like she wanted to say something more, she held her tongue, simply nodding before she turned away.

She walked slowly to the door, and out of the corner of his eye, he watched her as she moved away from him, reaching out to open the door and let herself out.

He remained silent, trapped in his misery

She was not his… She could never be his.

As _he_ could never be _hers_.

8-8-8-8-8

It had been a few hours since Bulma had left Vegeta in his room, and though she was anxious about how he was faring, she didn’t want to go to him again so soon after he had dismissed her.

Her only consolation was that she knew that since then, Goku, Piccolo, and Nappa had all been in to check on him, and at the moment, Vegeta was asleep, made drowsy by the pain medication that she had insisted on making him take.

He had just been injured, he needed to rest, and without inducing sleepiness, he would not have quit at all.

She sighed for perhaps the hundredth time as she stared at the figures on the files, looking up every now and then to peer into the PC that was working on decoding the strange documents saved into the floppy diskettes.

She smirked. She had not seen a diskette in a decade, so it was entertaining to be working with some of those outdated storage drives.

Speaking of storage drives…

Lapiz had stepped outside to speak to his sister.

It was the perfect time…

Acting quickly, Bulma pulled her keychain out of her pocket, and with trembling fingers, plugged her flash drive into one of the ports on one of the less frequently used terminals.

She had asked for the flash drive earlier, because she needed the Oasis codes that she had saved into it a few months ago. However, those codes were not the only files in the small drive.

Pulling up the file explorer menu, she clicked on a special, secret, . _exe_ file in a hidden folder, checking over her shoulder for Lapiz while the file installed, imbedding itself into the desktop as an invisible little worm.

She pulled the flash drive out, right as Lapiz walked back in, and Bulma tried to calm her racing heart, smiling guilelessly at him as he approached.

“Everything alright here?” Lapiz asked, and Bulma nodded with a small grin.

“Good,” he continued. “Any progress?”

“Yeah,” she answered, picking up a few pages worth of printouts. “These are some of the codes on Oasis. We need to refine those further, but at least we are on the right track. As for the diskettes, there is a bunch of encrypted paperwork, but give me a few hours and I’m sure we’ll be able to crack these easily.”

“You really are good at this,” Lapiz commented, looking at some documents that Bulma had actually printed out from her flash drive. “We’ll get them in no time.”

She kept her smile on her face as she nodded.

“Yeah,” she answered. “We will.”

8-8-8-8-8

It had only been a couple of days since the explosion, but Vegeta was already out of bed, boisterously bossing everyone around as always.

Bulma had never thought that she would be so happy to hear him scream “woman” at her, as she was when she first saw him walking about like nothing had happened.

By then, she had been with them for nearly a week, and for some reason, she didn’t really mind.

She was a prisoner, sure, but she was free to walk about the house and now had access to a wealth of files and information that kept her busy most of the time.

It was basically just like being back home with her father!

He had also kept a tight leash on her, keeping her at home more often than not, and in truth, he did not really _allow_ her to move out of West City.

She had snuck out, in the middle of the night, and she had hidden herself from the Syndicate for a week before revealing her exact whereabouts.

She had shut down her social media accounts following her departure from West, as she had been fully intending on leading as normal a life as possible, only being called up by the Syndicate when they needed her brainwork for one thing or another.

At the moment, she was huddled with Vegeta and Lapiz at the picnic table, hashing out the details of the plan for taking down the Oasis.

“You intend to implant a worm into their system, that would steal all of the data, sending it to us, while destroying their copies, am I correct?” Vegeta asked.

Lapiz rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up into the air. “Yes! You finally understand!”

“Fuck you, Lapiz. I do not know why I put up with you,” Vegeta snarled.

Bulma chuckled. “Well, Lapiz _was_ explaining it in a hard to understand manner.”

“He was trying to make a fool out of me, clearly,” Vegeta answered.

“Did I succeed?”

“You fucking-”

“Guys, please!” Bulma laughed. “It’s alright. At least now we have the platform ready. I have been working on the code, and I hope to have it ready real soon.”

“Good,” Vegeta said with a nod. “Kakarot has a spy ready on the inside, but we have not been getting much information from her because the Syndicate has been paranoid lately.”

“Actually,” Goku stepped up behind Vegeta, a frown on his lips. “I just got word in. The news of the explosion we caused in the warehouse had reached Frieza.”

“Naturally,” Lapiz said, his voice infuriatingly dry. “I’ll bet that caused heads to roll.”

Goku nodded grimly. “A whole lotta heads… And now, Frieza knows that we are back, Vegeta.”

Vegeta frowned. “I expected as much. I do not even know why they had been trying to keep it from him in the first place.”

Bulma felt her brows furrow as a strange thought occurred to her. “Vegeta… do you think… could it be possible that Frieza had thought you were all dead, all this time? You, Goku and Raditz?”

Vegeta’s brows rose up. “How could that be possible?”

“I had been thinking about it,” Bulma said. “It seemed strange to me, that he would have ordered for you and your brothers to all just be separated. It seems more likely that he would have had you killed. It would have been easier.”

“She’s right,” Lapiz said. “This had always been a puzzle to me, as well. _Why_ would he have ordered for you three to simply be separated, when the threat of your return would always loom over him?”

“I think,” Bulma mulled, “that your being separated and hidden away was plotted by people _in_ the Syndicate. A group of people who were banking on you taking Frieza down.”

“That doesn’t make sense though, does it?” Goku asked. “Why would Frieza’s people keep us alive, when they know that we could possibly take down their livelihoods or have them all sent to jail?”

“And why would they all be clamoring to go after us as well, if they had purposely hidden us away?” Vegeta asked.

“Well, think about it,” Bulma said. “The coded messages, sent sparingly to insiders when you first came back. I think, there is a conspiracy _within_ the conspiracy.”

“If only your father would talk, Bulma,” Vegeta snarled. “We could more easily get to the bottom of this.”

“My father knows nothi-”

“Are you _seriously_ still in denial over his involvement, woman?” Vegeta asked.

“Now, everyone,” Lapiz said, holding a hand up to call for a truce. “No use arguing amongst ourselves. We need to stick to our plans. Find a way to destroy the Oasis-”

“And once we do that,” Vegeta said, nodding in agreement. “We can take down the Syndicate.”

Bulma looked at the determined faces before her, her heart pounding in her chest, her excitement and worry warring for dominance.

She needed to believe that they could do it.

She grinned.

“Yes. The West City Syndicate is going _down.”_

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta finds himself depending on Bulma, and she realizes that she may be the only one who could tame the darkness in his heart. As they move closer to what the Saiyans had been searching for, Bulma makes a request that may be difficult for Vegeta to grant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6! I have to say, this chapter may be one of my favorites, so I hope you like it, too!

A week.

She had been declared as missing, for a week.

Her face was displayed on newspapers and on the internet, with articles narrating sparse details on the kidnapping of ex-Senator Dr. Trunks Briefs’ only daughter.

The press was trying to get interviews from Dr. Briefs, who had obviously declined to comment.

Now, the police was on their tail, and this was made exceedingly worse by the fact that half of West City’s police force was being financed by a furious Frieza Kold.

Bulma was worried about her father, but she knew that he would be safe, for now.

Frieza was a calculating bastard who would undoubtedly know, that killing Briefs when the media spotlight was on him, would be a tremendously stupid move.

Another problem though, was that Frieza now knew that Vegeta and Goku were alive, and probably knew that Raditz was somewhere out there, as well.

Vegeta and the crew had to be more careful, because now, the West City Syndicate was actively hunting them down, and definitely using their more substantial resources to also track down Raditz.

They were in a race now, and they were all running short on time.

Most of the information that they had mined from the papers in the warehouse were dead ends, and they were all on edge at what they all perceived to be a lack of progress. The pressure was beginning to get too much…

It was a good thing, that Bulma Briefs thrived on pressure.

She was nearly done compiling the data she had extracted from the diskettes, and her worm for the Oasis was also almost done. She just needed to perfect her codes, and she could hand the files off to Goku.

She was watching the progress bar on the computer when she heard the door open, and in strode Vegeta, brows knitted together, lips in a vicious frown.

Bulma sat up in alarm. “Vegeta? Is everything alright?”

Vegeta stared hard at her, but his eyes were glassy, unfocused…

“Hey,” she called again, slowly getting up to reach for him, instantly worried by the look in his eyes.

He was usually so intense, so determined, but at the moment, his glum eyes reminded her of a lost little child, the same child that he had been when she had known him, before he had been taken away from her all those years ago... Before he was harshly stolen from everything he held dear, apparently trained to become an efficient underground criminal with the sole purpose of avenging his fallen bloodline. 

His hands were in tight fists, knuckles red, and she gently moved towards him, taking his hand in hers, and she lifted it, soothingly running her fingers across the back of his hand.

His fists loosened marginally as he looked down at her, his gaze following the movements of her thumb across his fingers, but he remained tense, so Bulma offered him a small, timid smile.

“You gotta relax, alright? You’re gonna use up all your energy being so tense, then you won’t be able to focus on our little mission here,” she said softly, but as brightly as she could. Then, with a saucy wink, she added, “We’re gonna find Raditz. Then, you three will kick Frieza’s ass, just like that prophecy said you would.”

That seemed to grab his attention, and he looked up, staring into her eyes with such fierce intensity that she felt her very bones shudder, and unwilling to back down, she stared back…

The anger in his eyes slowly melted into melancholy beneath her gaze, and he sighed, heavy, pained, hopeless.

“Bulma,” he whispered. “I… I am worried about Raditz. What will happen if we do not find him in time? If they find him before we do…”

“Hush. Don’t you think that way,” she admonished. “We will find him. I know it seems tough right now, but you’ve gotta remember that Frieza probably isn’t any closer to finding him than we are. He knows nothing right now. Plus, we have these files, and we will crack these in no time.”

She lifted a hand up, intending to rest it comfortingly on his shoulder. However, her hand hovered, hesitantly, and she found it raising up, slowly…

She looked into his eyes, searching for a sign of rejection…

And when she found nothing but acceptance in his obsidian gaze, she let her hand wander until it was gently laying upon his cheek.

He was warm… so, so warm, his skin smooth and supple against her touch, and her palm cupped his sharply angled jaw, her thumb coaxing the tenseness away after she felt how tightly he had been grinding his teeth in his agitation.

She let her hand move to hold his face, her fingers gently brushing against his ear, and slowly, she felt him begin to relax, startling her when he… _nuzzled_ … into her touch. 

Bulma watched as his own hand lifted, observing in breathless anticipation as he held her hand to him, slightly turning his face to her touch, the edges of his lips brushing against the bottom of her palm.

Tiny shocks of electricity erupted throughout her body from the soft touch of his hand and lips, and Bulma sighed, stepping forward, moving closer to him with utmost care, almost as if she was afraid to scare him away.

They were toe to toe, and she could almost feel his breaths fanning across her cheeks…  
His hand against her tightened, in what seemed to her like compulsive need, before she felt him bow his head, letting his forehead rest upon her temple while he sighed heavily against her.

She felt the edges of her eyes fill with tears as she felt the weight of his quandaries in his heavy breaths, in how they sounded almost like stilted sobs as he closed his eyes in agony.

“Bulma,” he breathed, and she felt her heart pound at the rawness of his voice, at how he said her name with that unique lilt that no one but he ever did.

She moved closer, and suddenly, she felt him release the hand that held hers, only to roughly pull her to him, his thick arm wrapping around her waist while his breath continued to rush roughly out of his lips.

“I… I am trying very hard,” he started, “to keep this group together. They depend on me. And I… I cannot afford to fail them.”

She gulped, nodding against him, moving her now free arm to wrap around him, splaying her fingers against his lower back.

“I cannot let them see that I am worried,” he nearly growled the words out. “I lead them. I must stay in control. Yet-”

“I know,” she murmured. “You need to show them strength. You need to be their hope…”  
“How can I give them hope as I begin to falter with mine?” he asked, and his arms tightened, pulling her closer.

She could feel his heart pounding beneath his thick chest, the heat of his skin searing her in a most delightful way, as his loose button-down shirt gave her a glimpse of the bronze skin underneath his clothes.

“You can’t… you can’t lose hope. We will find him, Vegeta. We will win,” she said, feeling her own determination surge.

“I do not… in front of them, I…” he stuttered, before, with a defeated sigh, he said, “I do not want them to see me being weak.”

His words shocked her to her core.

Did this mean that he… needed her?

Trusted her, in spite of his earlier reservations?

She trembled beneath his embrace, and she pinched her eyes shut to stave off the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. 

Alone with him…

If he can’t be strong, she will be strong for him.

“Be weak, to me,” she whispered, her blue eyes boring desperately into the bottomless darkness of his. “You can be weak, to _me_. I can… I can understand. I will support you… And I will do everything I can to make you strong again.”

“Swear to me,” he said, his voice urgent, demanding. “Swear to me that you will stand by me, Bulma.”

She choked, and she felt a single tear roll down her cheek as she held him tighter, her own resolve solidifying in the face of his doubts.

He needn’t have asked…

Because she will. She always will.

“I will stand by you, Vegeta,” she promised. “Always. I promise.”

He tightened his arm around her, his lips moving gently against her palm, and she felt his mouth open to speak, when they were interrupted by a loud “ping” from the computer.

They both startled apart, and Bulma smiled as she saw a soft red hue on his nose and cheeks.

His eyes still looked glum, but it was with satisfaction that she noted that they didn’t look quite so… dead… as they looked when he first came in. 

She pulled away, leaving him with a shy but bright smile of encouragement, before turning away to face the computer. 

She felt a wide grin spread across her face as her eyes moved across the screen. 

“Vegeta, come look at this!” she cried excitedly, raising a hand to vigorously gesture at him to move closer. 

His brows furrowed, and he hurriedly stepped forward, peering anxiously into the computer.   
Her grin widened as his eyes did, while they both read through the information that had been revealed after Bulma’s encoding program was done with the diskettes. 

“This… this is…” he said, awed. 

She nodded happily. “This is a paper trail that tells you about Raditz’s last known whereabouts.”

“Bulma,” he said, before he turned to her, his eyes so wide and euphoric that she almost laughed in glee.

She had not seen him like this, not since they were little children…

“Could this,” he started, “Could this truly be the lead we had been waiting for?”

“It could be,” she said. “Shall we find out?”  
She felt his hand cover hers from where it rested at her side, giving it a firm squeeze as his eyes shone with his gratefulness, the thanks that his pride refuses to let him speak out screaming from the gentleness of the smile that formed on his lips. 

8-8-8-8-8

“Can Raditz really just be this close, now?” Kakarot asked incredulously while he stared at the printouts that Bulma had made. 

Based on the documents, Raditz was last handed off to a very small orphanage within the rural areas of South City. Nappa had done some further digging, and he had found that the documents discarded by the orphanage had been thrown into a small structure a few miles further away. 

“We will find him soon, Kakarot,” Vegeta answered, giving his brother a firm squeeze on the shoulder. 

“The timing is excellent,” Lapiz commented.

“Bulma is just finalizing some lines of code on her worm, and it will be good to go. Goku, is your contact ready?”

“Absolutely, and she is really looking forward to it,” Kakarot answered. “Her family’s entire estate was seized by the Syndicate too, and she has been dying to take them down for years.”

“That’s great then, because I have the files ready.” 

Vegeta turned at the sound of Bulma’s voice, and he smirked as he watched her approach, her hips swaying subtly, her tiny waist evident from the thin pink shirt that she wore loosely over her denim shorts. She had the longest legs he had ever seen, and some part of him still had a hard time reconciling the seductive shape of her now with the rather lanky form of the girl that he had left behind, decades earlier. 

Bulma sat fluidly beside him, holding up two flash drives, no doubt provided by Lapiz.

“We do have a small issue,” she said. “If I had more time, I could probably refine this, but Lapiz and I have been working non-stop on this virus, and this is the best we can do.”  
He felt his eyes narrow on the two drives.

“What is the issue?”

“These are two files, on two separate drives. There are two main terminals holding the data of the Oasis,” Bulma explained. “Now, each of these, has to be planted on one terminal each.”

She held up the red drive. “This has to be implanted on Terminal A, as this is the virus that will steal their data and send it to us.”  
Vegeta watched as she then lifted the black drive. “This one has to be planted on Terminal B. This is the file that will destroy their mainframe, starting from bank transactions to international dealings regarding their flesh trade. But these have to be planted at an interval. I need to explain this to Goku’s insider.”

He sighed. “Kakarot, can you call your contact to meet with you?”

Kakarot nodded. “We had been planning to meet today. Bulma can come with me.”

Vegeta looked intently at Bulma, trying to decipher her intentions. 

She had promised… she had promised…  
Perhaps, he should learn to trust her word…

“Alright,” he nodded. “Both of you meet with Kakarot’s contact. Piccolo and I will scope out the files from this orphanage.”

He looked around at the determined faces surrounding him, and he smirked. 

“Good luck, to all of us.”

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma didn’t take it against Goku that he had blindfolded her as they left the hideout. 

She was just bored, with nothing to look at out the window, but she understood that he was being protective of his contact in the Syndicate.

After all, what if she were to suddenly turn coat? Then the contact was as sure as dead.   
When the car finally stopped, she felt Goku reach around to remove the blindfold, and as she shook her head to fluff her hair up, he stood to let her out of the car.

It was already dark out, and Bulma stepped slowly out of the car, carefully watching her feet as Goku led her down a small hill.

In the middle of a narrow plot of land, stood a tiny, brick house, that had a very sparse spot of light coming from the inside.

Bulma stood back as Goku knocked twice, but she heard nothing from the inside, not a single rustle.

Goku cleared his throat, before he spoke, softly, but clearly, “I flew upon Kinto-un.”

Bulma’s brows raised. A _what_?

She heard a click come from inside, and as she saw the door swing open, she realized that what Goku had called out were code words, apparently a signal, to let the person inside know who it was that had come knocking.

They entered, the small door creaking softly, and as they walked into the center of the house, Bulma’s eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light, allowing her to see the lone figure sitting on a chair in the middle of a small living area.

She was a tiny woman, with subtly muscled arms and thick dark hair pulled up into a thick bun atop her head. She was wearing a long, blue sleeveless dress with high slits, her shoes encased in delicate red pumps.   
Her face was round and cute, with wide dark eyes and a small mouth that twisted into a happy grin as soon as she laid her eyes on Goku.

“Goku-sa!” she exclaimed, and Bulma watched her launch herself at Goku, who laughed as he easily caught her in his arms, the impact of her embrace seemingly nothing to the tall Saiyan brother.

“I’ve missed you!” she whispered, and Bulma turned her eyes away from the emotional reunion as she realized…

This woman was not simply Goku’s contact.  
She was his lover.

It made complete sense now, why Goku had been utterly paranoid about the meeting.   
She spun around, allowing the couple a moment of privacy, only turning back to them when Goku called her name.

“Bulma,” he said, a wide smile on his face. “I would like you to meet Chichi!”

Chichi bowed low, and Bulma, flustered, returned the gesture.

Goku laughed, making her look questioningly up at him.

“Sorry Bulma, I know you’re not used to this kind of greeting,” he said, before he turned to Chichi. “She’s from West City, Chi.”

“Oh, I know that,” Chichi responded. “But regardless of their customs in West, I choose to stick to our old village practices.”

“Chichi and I grew up near each other,” Goku said to Bulma. “I used to see her a lot when we were kids, but we only got married three years ago.”

Bulma froze, jaw falling open in shock. “M-married?!”

Chichi snickered, while Goku grinned.

“You didn’t tell her, Goku-sa?” Chichi asked.

“Nobody in the group knows, Chi,” Goku said. “Only Vegeta, and now, Bulma.”

After the initial shock of the revelation had worn off, Bulma began explaining the mechanics of the flash drives to Chichi.   
Chichi was a smart woman, Bulma was glad to note, and the petite woman nodded at her instructions, only pausing to clarify some things, before she took the flash drives from Bulma, stuffing them into a pouch she had hidden in her blouse.

“This will not be too difficult, I hope,” Chichi said. “Oh Bulma-san, Goku-sa… I just want this all to end.”

“We all do, Chichi,” Bulma agreed. She tried to keep her voice steady, but the sadness showed in her voice, making her words tremble.

“And it will, very soon,” Goku said, twining his hand with Chichi’s.

Bulma watched as the two shared a soft look, and she knew, right then, that they had no choice…

The Syndicate must fall. And it will fall by their hands.

8-8-8-8-8

The building was old, decrepit, and like their intel had revealed, was completely abandoned.

The search had been more frustrating than difficult, but Vegeta, Piccolo and Lapiz quickly go through the various files that remained.

Vegeta was going through a particularly dusty old box, swiping angrily at the thick dust that covered his hands, when a particular file suddenly caught his eye.   
Amongst the boxes upon boxes of beige, manila folders, there was a lone green plastic folder, with a single letter written on the edge of an outer tab.

_R_.

His heart nearly leapt out of his throat as he pulled out the very old file, his hand trembling as he stared almost reverently at the documents within.

A stack of papers, with redacted information, all greeted him as he opened the file, but the one thing that captivated his eye was a single image, photocopied in black and white onto a sheet of bond paper.

It was the picture of a child, a boy, of about two years old. His entire face was blacked out with marker, but his hair stood out, on end, a distinctive feature of all three Saiyan children…

He ran a shaky finger down the image, lingering on the tip of the hair that had grown long, past the boy’s shoulders…

It was him…

It was Raditz!

He could not possibly be mistaken!

“Pi-Picollo!” he called out, his voice breaking in his euphoria. “Lapiz! Come and look at this!”

The two rushed over to where Vegeta realized that he had fallen to his knees, while his hands held the most important set of documents he had ever laid his eyes upon. Within those files, he could find the way to Raditz… 

He could finally find his brother!

Fumbling slightly, he lifted the folder out, finding another floppy diskette taped onto one of the documents.

Lapiz’s eyes were wide when he turned to him, and Piccolo had a half smile as he looked at the big letter “R” on the folder.   
They all nodded to each other, gathering themselves up to run back into their awaiting car.

When they arrived at the car, Lapiz took the wheel, Piccolo sitting shotgun, while Vegeta sat alone in the back, tightly holding the folder to his chest. As he sat alone with his thoughts, he felt a near-compulsive need to pull out the sheet of paper containing the image, the one that he was sure, was the image of Raditz.

He took the sheet out, staring in amazement at the photo, and as he gazed at the picture, his thoughts brought him back to that fateful day twenty years earlier, when his life, as he had known it, was suddenly shattered.

He had gone out into the city that day, something his father had told him to never do alone. But he had to go alone, because if he went with his parents, then they would know what he had planned, and it would not have been a surprise anymore.

He had told no one but Bulma, who had agreed to keep his secret.

The problem was, he had gotten lost, and as the darkness thickened, he knew that he had to give up and call for his father.

His father had a cellphone, one of those models with the square, black and white screens, and he had the number written into one of the pockets of his bag.

He had called, gotten an earful, but was told to stay put so that his father can come and get him.

They had been on their way home when Vegeta Sr.’s phone rang again…

The person on the other line, who he later learned had been Nappa, was frantic, screaming, and as he spoke, Vegeta watched his father’s face grow paler and paler, his eyes filling with utmost rage, the likes of which he had never seen before.

i-i-i-i-i

_“I… I am coming. They will pay, Nappa. They will pay for what they did to my Gine!”_

_Vegeta felt the fear grow in him while the person on the other line spoke, terror filling him as his father’s own face began to twist into the most poignant expression of shocked agony that he would never, ever forget._

_“The children…?”_

_Silence, as his father listens…_

_“I have to go back!” Vegeta Sr. growls._   
_He revved the car, and Vegeta was thrown back into the seat as his father frantically accelerated._

_“No!” Vegeta hears, shouted from the phone, before the man on the other line begins talking in a softer voice again._

_What… what was happening?_

_“Father…? Father, what is happening?” he asked, voice small as he felt his hackles raise amidst his fright._

_Something was very wrong…_

_Vegeta Sr. ignored him as he continued to speak to the other man, before his eyes fill with a heavy resignation that scared him even more._

_“Yes. Yes, I understand. I will be there in five minutes.”_

_Cutting off the call, Vegeta Sr. made a sharp U-turn, causing Vegeta to reel back into his seat and clutch the seatbelt tight. “Father! What is going on?”_

_Vegeta Sr. was pale, drawn, as he spoke. “Vegeta. You know Nappa, right?”_

_He nodded. “Yes, the big bald guy…”_

_The older man took a shaky breath, before he cleared his throat, and spoke, “I am going to take you to him. And you will go with him. No questions, alright?”_

_Vegeta panicked. It was his father’s ‘serious voice’. The one he knew to never argue with._   
_They weaved madly in and out of traffic, and Vegeta felt the dread build in the pit of his stomach with every sharp turn, every red light that his father recklessly ignored._

_“Nappa will take you with him, and you need to go with him,” his father instructed. “I… I will catch up later. Do you understand, boy?”_

_They finally stop near the end of a short street, a dark alley facing between several large buildings. Vegeta Sr. hurriedly leapt out of their black car, and Vegeta followed, jumping out of the passenger seat to run to his father who had already circled back to catch him._

_He was nearly dragged away until his father nudged him towards Nappa, who gave him a grim look before turning back to his father._

_“King,” he said, and Vegeta recognized the nickname that all of his father’s coworkers called him._

_“Nappa, don’t let him out of your sight,” he instructed. “Take care of Vegeta. Don’t let anything happen to him.”_

_“Vegeta,” his father called as he turned back to him. “You are safe with Nappa. I entrust you to him.”_

_Vegeta nodded, mouth gaping as he remained at a loss for words, confused by all that had happened in the past few minutes._

_When he finally managed to drag his voice out he called, “Father-”_

_BANG!_

_A loud, deafening shot cut him off, and before he could understand what had happened, he heard screams erupt from around him, but his eyes were glued only to his father…_

_Vegeta Sr., stared blankly at him, his hand clutching weakly at a spot on his chest…_

_Vegeta watched as a deep red tint began to bleed onto his father’s light yellow dress shirt, and in his shock, he could do nothing but stare, a sob lodged in his throat._

_Nappa yelled, and Vegeta felt himself lifted off his feet when the large man suddenly yanked him off the ground, and he struggled weakly, his eyes still glued on his father._

_His father, who had fallen to his knees, as blood began to spurt out from the edges of his lips…_

_“Fa-” he stuttered._

_Sudden movement from somewhere behind his father caught his attention, and he glanced up, only to see the retreating form of Bulma’s father, running madly into the side of a nearby building._

_He had been holding a gun…_

_Vegeta looked back at his father, who by then had fallen down, face-first, onto the ground._

_“No!” he cried, his mind finally moving past the shock and denial, making everything clear to him…_

_His father…_

_“Father!” he yelled, struggling against Nappa, while the man did his level best to carry him, kicking and screaming, away from the fallen body of his father._

_“Let me go!” he screamed, fury rising in his chest as the man stopped him from going back._

_“Let me go! Father!” he yelled again, his heart beating madly in his chest, refusing to believe everything that had happened, even though he had been right_ there.

“Father!”

i-i-i-i-i

He had blacked out at some point after that, and when he awoke, it was in a dank motel room, where Nappa had been standing like a sentinel beside him in his sleep.

The man had then explained to him everything that had happened: How his father had been a part of the West City Syndicate, and on the night, the Boss had ordered that he be taken out. When Vegeta Sr. fetched him in the city, a signal had gone out to the hitmen, who had stormed their home and mercilessly murdered his mother.   
Kakarot and Raditz had both gone missing, and he had called Vegeta Sr., in an effort to keep him away from the chaos, to try to keep him and his only remaining son safe.

Unfortunately, they had also been spotted, and his father had been killed. He would have been next.

Vegeta clenched his fists as his fury took over once again. He carefully placed Raditz’ picture back into the folder as he mulled about his desires to destroy every single person who had ever had a hand in his parents’ death, in the abduction of his brothers, and in his being sent to live out his life like a fugitive, whose sole reason for continuing to exist was to exact his vengeance upon all who had wronged him. 

Nappa had raised him, trained him, and as he did, had continuously provided Vegeta with all of the information he could possibly need about the elite circle of traitors who had gone after his father. 

Kold.

Briefs. 

Nappa had been diligent on keeping him abreast of all the underground activities, particularly focusing on Briefs as he rose up in the ranks, took over the Saiyan’s estate, and won the Senatorial elections. 

While he received intel on Briefs, he also became privy to the pampered life of Bulma, the lovely only-daughter, who had begun to catch media attention as she, from the toothy-grinned bossy little girl, gracefully blossomed into a woman. 

He had watched her as she grew up in the spotlight, listened to the commentaries on her beauty, and Vegeta realized with a jolt that he had always hated those articles that spoke lasciviously of her because in his mind, _they had no right_. 

They had no right to treat her like nothing more than a sex object. 

Not when his very soul cried out that, that beauty, was _his_. 

He had truly never wanted to believe that she was involved in any of the Syndicate’s activities, because his Bulma was not evil. 

Not like them. 

Not like _him_. 

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma held the diskette in one hand, while she stared silently at the redacted black and white photo. 

She was positive… it was Raditz. Vegeta was right. 

“What do you think?” Vegeta asked impatiently.

Bulma beamed brightly at him. “This is Raditz. I can recall his hair… He was a very big kid. This is him, I’m sure!”

“Alright!” Goku whooped. “We are so close! We’re gonna find him!”

“Do not rejoice quite yet, Kakarot,” Vegeta said. “All those papers have redacted details, and the information stored in that diskette is surely encoded, as well.”

“That isn’t a problem, though,” Bulma said. “I can crack this. I’m sure. You’ll have Raditz back with you in no time!”

Vegeta smirked, his eyes catching hers, and the almost mischievous look in his eyes made her heart pause.

He was so… _attractive_.

“Let us sleep on it for now,” Vegeta said. “It is nearly morning, and we need to rest for the day ahead.”

All nodded, and Chaotzu, the little man who had been placed on guard duty outside her door every night, approached her, about to herd her back to her room.

“Wait,” she said. “I need to speak to Vegeta.”  
She rushed out after Vegeta as he turned to leave the room, calling out, “Wait, Vegeta!”

He turned to her slowly, a brow raised in question.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I need to ask you a small favor, but could you promise not to get mad?” she said, and right on cue, she watched his brows furrow low over his eyes.

“The fact that you need to ask me not to get mad is already making me angry,” he quipped.

“Please?” she tried again. “Coz it might sound like a really absurd request, but I promise you that there is a reason, a good reason, for it.”

He sighed, “I am exhausted, so this had better be good. What is it that you need?”  
Mustering up the brightest, most disarming smile she could possibly summon, Bulma took a deep breath…

“I need to borrow a phone. I have to call my father.”

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma unravels painful truths, and she turns to Vegeta, who has decided to put his trust in her. In the midst of their doubts, they find solace in each other, and their hearts reach out in the most intimate of ways.  
> Warning: Smut/ Explicit sexual content

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second to the last Chapter of Retribution Book 1! Warning, this chapter ends in smut. If you are not comfortable with such content, please feel free to skip the last part of this chapter. :) Enjoy!

It took a few moments for Bulma’s words to sink in.

Vegeta gaped, staring blankly at her, his mind momentarily refusing to comprehend the _audacity_ of the woman – who, by all merits, was a _hostage_ – to ask for a phone call, to speak to the man who, as far as he knew, had _pulled the trigger on the gun that killed his father_.

“Are you-” he sputtered, enraged, but not quite having the energy left to scream at her. “Tell me that you are kidding.”

“No, I really do need to speak to my father,” she answered.

Vegeta closed his eyes, internally counting to ten, then counting backwards once more. With a heavy breath, he opened his eyes, only to see Bulma staring up at him with the most hopeful expression he had ever seen.

Her eyes were wide, hands clasped tightly between her breasts, and her bottom lip jutted out like a child begging for sweets at a candy store.

He had a near uncontrollable urge to reach forward and tug the lip, but he quickly dashed the ridiculous thought with more anger.

“How could you even think of asking for such a thing?!” he asked incredulously.

Surely, she could not expect him to agree to such a request!

“Vegeta, believe me, I do not exactly _want_ to talk to him right now,” she said.

“And why is that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Bulma crossed her arms, leaning her weight on one leg. “I am still here trying to help you. I don’t want him to find me. But I need to ask him… something.”

This time, he felt a brow quirk up in question. “Oh? You do not want to be found? Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“Not _yet,”_ she said. “But I really need to ask him something, and it will really put my mind at ease to know the answers.”

“You will _not_ contact Briefs,” he hissed. He felt his fists clench tightly at his sides, teeth gritting painfully in his anger.

“Please, Vegeta, I swear to you, I will not give up our location,” she begged. “I don’t even know where we are!”

“Phone calls can be traced, you idiotic-”

“Not when they are from me, and not to the number that I intend to call,” she said. “We have a secure line that he will never reveal, not even to Frieza, because Dad uses it to deal with _his_ underground activities that he cannot let Frieza know about.”

He remained skeptical. “How could you place an untraceable call?”

She beamed. “I made a special software that can allow me to place calls using a certain combination of numbers, from any phone, and the phone number will not register with the service providers. It is pretty complicated, and I cannot exactly explain it right now, but I guarantee you that the call will be completely untraceable.”

“This is a ridiculous idea,” he said, but he, himself, caught the waver in his voice, could see the acquiesce spilling into his words.

“Vegeta, I swear to you, I just need to ask him something,” she said. “I will not, will never, betray you. You have to believe me.”

He looked into her earnest eyes, catching the hopeful glint in them, and when she opened her mouth to speak again, he knew exactly what she was about to ask…

“Can you trust me with this, Vegeta?” she asked, and he closed his eyes, already knowing the answer, but refusing to say it out loud.

Because, yes, dear gods, yes, he trusted her.

It was the most ridiculous thing, perhaps the _dumbest_ thing to do, but every single fiber of his being trusted her, believed in her, when she promised that she would never betray him…

That she would stand by him…

He took another, extremely deep breath, before he opened his mouth to answer her.

“If we get attacked, and I am killed, I will know that it was because of you,” he hissed, “And I swear to you that I will haunt your every living moment in the most violent way possible-”

“Thank you!” she exclaimed as she understood his agreement, and she rushed to him, her arms held wide open before her to pull him into a gleeful embrace.

Before he could react, she had him in her hold, surrounding him with her pale, frail arms, her entire body flush with his as she trembled in excitement.

His face burned red when he realized that the woman’s damn _breasts_ were rubbing against his chest, her round wide hips bumping snuggly onto his, and damn if his thoughts did not go directly into the gutter when he looked into her face, flushed pink with her happiness.

How he had gone from believing that he hated her, to rediscovering his childhood affection for her, and to now blatantly _thinking libidinously_ about her, he would never understand.

Yet, he could do nothing but hug her back, and the moment he wrapped his arms around her form… he knew, that he had made a terrible mistake.

For the feel of her was unreal, as magical as touching a cloud, and he nearly shivered in delight as he relived the gentle touches that she had offered him the last time, when he had felt himself about to break down. He could still remember the sensation of her soft palm on his jaw, how small and fragile her hand had felt in his, and he valiantly tried to fight off the impulse raging within his soul to pull her fiercely against him and just… never… let go.

His heart felt like it was trying to beat through his chest, and while she noisily continued to thank him, he silently, discretely, curled himself against her, trying to feel her more keenly within his heart, to inhale the gentle scent of her hair that was tousling innocently against his cheeks.

When she finally pulled away, her eyes as brilliant as the mid-day sun, he gave in to the urge to flash her with a small smile, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her.

“I entrust this to you,” he said, “and with it, my life, and the lives of my men. Have Chaotzu return it to me when you are done.”

She stared silently at him for a moment, and unable to take much more of the tension, he turned around, heading into his room.

He needed to be alone. He needed to think. Having Bulma with him, would make that utterly impossible.

8-8-8-8-8

“What… what was that?” Bulma whispered wonderingly to herself after Vegeta turned the corner to head to where she knew his bedroom was.

That look in his eyes… it was so…

Gentle…

Full of… care?

She felt something different when she felt his hands fall upon her, and she had played coy, simply proceeding with her giddy little hug, even though she could tell that there was… something.

Her breath had hitched in her throat when she felt him hold her close, and her eyes watered when she felt him breathe deeply into her hair. Her hands shook as she grasped tightly at the thick muscles of his back, and she pulled away when she felt her heartbeats begin to hasten painfully within her chest.

“ _You can be weak to me.”_

She had meant those words, and they had flown effortlessly from her tongue, as easily as it had been for her to take his hand in hers and offer him her warmth as his comfort.

It was inexplicable, but Bulma felt like an invisible thread was wrapped around them both, a link that they had formed as children, that was now steadily pulling them closer together, one hesitant touch at a time.

Now, she was more determined than ever to get to the bottom of the issues with the Syndicate, because after all this was over and done, she wanted to explore what it was that kept her tethered to Vegeta, to see if this undeniable connection was something that she could nurture into a full, more powerful bond.

With Vegeta’s phone in her hands, she went back into her bedroom, past the questioning gaze of Chaotzu who was stationed at her door, and sat down on her bed.

Without unlocking the phone, she used the Emergency Call function to dial 6 digits:

_8-7-8-6-5-7_

_T-R-U-N-K-S_

It took a few seconds for her special cloud software to recognize her command from an unregistered handset, but when the other line began to ring, she didn’t have to wait long for the haggard voice of her father to pick up.

“Bulma?!” he cried, before the end of the first ring.

“Dad!” she called back, a sense of relief flooding her as she heard his voice again.

“Bulma, baby, you’re alright!” he exclaimed. “Where are you? I will pick you up right now.”

“I’m still with,” she paused, “The Prince.”

She had heard Lapiz call Vegeta that name before, had seen it in some of the hacked emails scattered around the computer room. She knew that it was the moniker that the Syndicate used to refer to Vegeta.

“What? Then, how are you able to call me? I thought you had managed to get away?”

“No, dad.  I did not get away. And for now, I cannot,” she responded.

“How can I help you get away? Can you send me your location?”

“Dad,” she said softly. “I need to ask you something. Can you promise to tell me the truth?”

She felt her free hand ball into a fist around her sheets, both anticipating and dreading the answers to her questions.

“I need to know, Dad,” she continued. “Did you… did you have any idea, regarding the killing of Vegeta Saiyan, Sr.?”

She heard his sharp intake of breath, and her eyes snapped shut, lips twisting in understanding.

He… he knew something. His reaction made it painfully clear.

“Bulma,” she heard him whisper, and a sob escaped her lips, a hand flying up to clutch her chest.

“Why?” she asked. “Why? Weren’t you… weren’t you the best of friends?”

“Bulma, you need to find a way to escape-”

“Why _,_ Dad? _Why_?” she sobbed. “Did you have something to do with Vegeta, Kakarot and Raditz being taken, too?”

“Baby, please-”

“No!” she yelled, feeling her heart constrict painfully. “How could you?”

“Bulma!” he yelled back. “I only did what I had to do. And yes, I knew about the plot to kill Vegeta… but I had nothing to do with it.”

She had suspected… but had been rejecting the idea, that her father was to blame. But now…

 “Don’t lie to me, Dad-”

“I am telling the truth,” he pled. “I… I tried to warn him, Bulma. Why do you think I had tried to get to the plaza back then? I tried… I tried to find him, to help him run away.”

Bulma sobbed helplessly as the tears began to flow down her face, into her lips. “Dad-”

“Bulma, please,” he said. “You have to get away. Being with Vegeta is messing with you. You need to stay away from him…”

That made her straighten, brows lowered in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t tell me that you don’t understand,” he said. “You and Vegeta… you had always been so close. You and he… you had always been so tightly-knit. This connection could be blinding you. His father was killed because of him and his brothers!”

“What are you saying?”

“The old oracle, Uranai,” he said. “The little prediction that she made, the prophecy that the Syndicate believes in. Frieza had the Saiyans destroyed because of it.”

“This stupid prediction,” Bulma hissed, dashing her tears from her cheeks, “was not the three brothers’ fault.”

“I know… but Bulma,” he said, “my only fault in this is that I had been too late. I had run there to keep him from getting killed, but when we arrived, he had already been shot by Zarbon… and I shot Zarbon afterwards. This is something no one knows, because the whole Syndicate thinks that Zarbon had been killed by Nappa.”

“Is this the truth?” she asked.

“Yes-”

“Do you also know about Raditz’s whereabouts?” she asked.

Bulma listened to her father pause, and that was all the answer she needed.

“You do, don’t you?” she accused, her heart filling with rage.

He knew. And yet, he had let her get captured, let the brothers go through so much trouble, and he _knew all along._

“Yes,” he sighed. “But… I can’t tell you, Bulma.”

“Why not?”

“Because I _can’t_!”

“Then, I _can’t_ get away from Vegeta and his crew, either,” she bit out. “Because I will be here, until they find him. And they will find him, Dad. With or without your help.”

With an insurmountable amount of bitterness, she angrily cut the line, pulling the phone to her chest as her sobs grew louder, more painful, the wounds of her father’s betrayal gaping widely in her soul.

She vowed right then and there, that she was going to do everything in her power to help Vegeta find Raditz…

Even if it meant going against her own bloodline.

8-8-8-8-8

She was eerily focused on her tasks.

The night before, Vegeta did not fail to notice the reddened eyes and puffy nose when Bulma personally went to his room to return his phone.

Now, she seemed utterly hell-bent on cracking the passworded information in the diskette, and was pouring over the printed contents of the folder like the world would end if she failed to absorb all of the data into her brain.

Even Lapiz had taken breaks – eating his lunch and later, dinner – while keeping an eye on Bulma’s work on the computer, but she was still going strong.

He should be grateful at the unconventional show of dedication, but instead, he was concerned.

What had happened? What happened after her phone call with her father?

He had spent the entire day scoping out old orphanages in the surrounding areas, as well as coordinating with Tao Pai Pai regarding the possibility of finding out who had been responsible for depositing Raditz in the orphanage, to begin with.

It was late at night when Vegeta dropped by the computer room again, and he opened the door just in time to see Lapiz release a wide yawn.

He himself had already showered, and was dressed only in a pair of pajama pants and a thin white shirt as he was about to head to bed. He peered worriedly at Bulma, who, pen and paper in hand, was madly scribbling figures as she watched lines of numbers flow down the screen.

“Oi, Lapiz,” he called. “Go on to bed. I will stay with the woman.”

“Are you sure?” Lapiz asked. “I think we are rather close to cracking this, Vegeta.”

“I will need you alert tomorrow so that if Bulma cracks the code today, you can help us as we make our way to any possible new venues,” he said. “Go on. Get some rest.”

Lapiz shrugged, before he stood, patting Bulma on the shoulder as he walked off.

Vegeta turned to Bulma, whose eyes had gone slightly red, and he grinned a bit when he heard her release and irritated “tsk”.

“You should go to bed, too,” he urged, but Bulma simply shook her head.

“No, I can’t. Not now. I almost have it,” she hissed at the computer screen.

“Bulma-”

“No, Vegeta, please. I have to finish this.”

“You can just continue this tomorrow-”

“ _No_!” she exclaimed, taking him aback. _What the fuck?_

“I have to finish this as soon as possible, Vegeta,” she insisted. “I need to… I need to prove to you. I need to show you…”

His brows furrowed in concern as the sound of her voice gained a broken edge, and he moved closer, sitting beside her on the chair that Lapiz had just vacated.

“I do not understand,” he said. “Show me what?”

“That I am not like my father,” she snarled, and finally, Vegeta understood.

The phone conversation. It appeared, Bulma had gotten her answers.

“Your father,” he began, carefully. “He had information, did he not?”

A lone tear fell down Bulma’s cheek, but she angrily wiped it away with the back of her hand, her teeth grinding angrily as she stared at the screen, keeping her gaze away from him.

“Let’s… _not_ talk about my father, alright?” she asked, her voice thick with tears.

He kept his eyes on her, as he nodded.

Vegeta felt terrible for her, finding out about her father’s disloyalties in such a way, but he knew that it was also inevitable that she would someday learn of her father’s treachery. It was also painful, he was sure, to receive confirmation that her father had allowed her to be abducted, all in his efforts to preserve the secrets of the Syndicate.

“This diskette,” Bulma said, breaking him out of his thoughts, “contains a tightly protected file with a set of numbers. I think… I think these could be coordinates.”

“Coordinates?” he asked. “You mean, a location?”

She nodded. “The paper documents have the descriptions of the boy sent for adoption. So we know now, that Raditz had been successfully adopted. However, all names and locations had been erased. This diskette is our best chance, and I only have a few digits left to crack.”

He watched her silently, taking in her melancholy features, and he hated Briefs even more for having the audacity to dim the brightness of her blue eyes.

She had begun to grow restless, irritatedly pulling at the neck of her green shirt, shifting around with the empty belt hoops of her dark denim shorts, and he realized with grim amusement that she had been madly fiddling with the space pod toy whenever she stuck her hands into her pockets. 

A strong impulse to touch her seized him, and he reached forward, laying his large hand over her slim left wrist, stopping her compulsive movements as her shocked eyes flew up to meet his.

Her wide eyes softened as she gazed up at him, the grim line of her lips curving up into a smile, and Vegeta smiled back when he felt her hand slide up, catching his fingers in hers, her palm clasping warmly upon his own.

She kept her hand in his as she turned back to the computer, her free hand holding the pen as she analyzed the lines upon lines of numbers flashing through her screen.

Vegeta sat with her, silent and unmoving, strangely content with dumbly watching the sheen of her hair, the lines that marred her forehead whenever she frowned at difficult strings of data.

It seemed like hours had passed, when she suddenly perked up, and he felt the excitement in the way her hand almost trembled in his, her back stiff as she stared intently at the computer.

She wrote down a few numbers, and he stared when her eyes widened, shining with happiness while her lips stretched into a wide grin, her cheeks flushing with excitement.

“I… I got it,” she said softly, though her voice was full of unabashed glee, and he perked up when she turned her eyes back to him, happily catching his gaze.

He felt his own lips twist into a smile as her words registered, and his own eyes went wide, euphoric disbelief coursing through his veins.

“Are you sure?” he asked, peering over her, and into the computer monitor, unable to make sense of the jumble of numbers that she was ecstatically gesturing at.

“Yes!” she shrilled, picking up the sheet of paper, before she accessed a map software on the computer before her.

She typed in a sequence of numbers, each set separated by a comma, and Vegeta watched in amazement when the map began to zoom in on a specific location.

The small red map marker now hovered over a small wooded area on the outskirts of North City, and he stared, amazed by how that little red marker could be pointing directly at the place where he could finally, _finally,_ after all these years, find his youngest brother.

He didn’t know when he had started shaking, but when he felt the insistent burn of liquid from the back of his eyes, he turned away, taking his hand away from Bulma to dash angrily at his lids.

“Vegeta,” she called him softly, her voice full of reverent happiness, and he turned back to her just in time to see her smile gently, beautifully, her eyes sparkling brighter than any star to have ever dotted across the night sky.

“He could be right there,” she said, “in that tiny town in North City. You’ll be with Raditz again, Vegeta!”

He nodded, his eyes arrested by her ruby lips…

His body moved before his mind could; the pressure, the frustrations and sudden euphoria of finding a real, solid lead spilled out onto limbs, and before he could think or reconsider, he grabbed Bulma, one hand on her wrist and one around her waist, pulled her close…

Then, with his heart pounding through his chest, he leaned down to crush his lips onto hers in a soul-searing kiss.

She stiffened for half a second, and the motion almost made him hastily pull away, but then, he felt her press herself closer, tighter against him, her free hand snaking up to wrap possessively around his neck.

Vegeta closed his eyes and groaned against her as she sighed, delighting in the feel of her soft lips moving insistently against his while her fingers brushed gently across his nape.

He released her wrist so he can cup her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his calloused palms, and she followed his lead, holding his face, slowly moving up to delve into the thickness of his hair.

She moved against him, and he hissed softly, feeling chills rise along the back of his neck, when he felt her body press onto his, smoothing her gentle curves against the hard planes of his stomach and chest.

Her kiss was heaven, her touches divine, and his entire body was aflame from the sensations she pulled forth, her soft sighs and murmurs fanning the spark of their attraction into an all-consuming flame.

He didn’t want to pull away, but when he felt his body begin to respond to her in more intimate ways, he stepped back, holding her by the shoulders to carefully pry them apart.

Breathing hard, he pressed his forehead onto hers, his eyes clenched closed, and when he finally deigned to open them, he found himself staring back into half-lidded sky-blue orbs.

Her cheeks were flushed, lips red from the pressure of their kiss, and he began to move back and away from her, only to be stopped by a small hand pressing against his lower back.

 “Vegeta,” her voice was deepened, hoarse and breathless, and she moved with cautious slowness, lifting a hand up to brush the stray strands of hair that had fallen onto his face.

He nuzzled against her palm, wordlessly staring back at her, committing her every feature to memory, wanting to forever hold on to the vision of her flustered countenance, the soft glow brought about by their first kiss.

“Bulma,” he answered softly, the tender tone of his voice surprising him while he held her tighter once again. “Bulma… I-”

She shook her head with a small smile, then stepped back, lowering her hand to pull one of his into her grasp again.

He looked up as she began to walk out of the computer room, her hand still holding onto his, and he followed her, his eyes entranced once again by the swaying curtain of her delicate blue hair.

His feet moved of their own accord, willingly trailing after Bulma, and Vegeta realized that if it were up to his heart alone, he would gladly follow her anywhere…

She surprised him when she suddenly paused, and when he looked up, he realized that Bulma had led him to stand right outside her bedroom door.

He looked at her, eyes wide, full of questions, and Bulma simply turned her gaze away from him, reaching forward to turn the knob, pushing the door open. She walked in, he followed; As soon as they were both inside, she reached behind him to push the door closed, gently clicking on the lock.

Slowly, shyly, she raised her eyes to meet his once more, her face aflame with a deep rose blush.

She finalized released his hand, and Vegeta stood unmoving, mesmerized, when her small fingers began to pluck hesitantly at the edges of her shirt.

It was as if time had begun to slow down, every sight and sound beyond himself and Bulma blurring into nether, when she clutched at the hem, and ever so slowly, began to lift her shirt.

He stood stunned by the smooth, pale skin of her stomach… the gentle swell of her breasts hidden behind a pale blue bra. Bulma shrugged the shirt over her shoulders, off her head, clumsily dropping her top onto the floor, followed by her timid eyes.

Vegeta stepped forward, his hand shaking tremulously as he lifted it to brush the backs of his fingers along the supple length of her arm. Small goosebumps formed in the wake of his caress, a soft sigh leaving her mouth when she looked up to stare nervously into his eyes.

Her breaths puffed harshly… her tongue darted out to lick her lips…

His mind understood how much more complicated things would become, should he take her up on her very clear offer.

Yet, his heart yearned for her, and his body followed suit, reaching for her with unrestrained fervor, and banishing his every logical thought, he pulled her to him again, his large hands spanning her bare back, relishing in the warmth of her skin.

With one last hushed call of her name, he slanted his mouth over hers…

For tonight, Bulma would be _his_.

i-i-i-i-i

Perhaps, it was a mistake.

Perhaps the biggest mistake she had ever – _would_ _ever,_ make.

But the feel of his hands on her were heavenly, the rush of his breath against her skin was the most addictive drug, and when he lunged forward to pull her into another deep kiss, Bulma simply melted against him, a small cry of wonder escaping her ravaged lips when she felt his hands take over her, spreading tingles of the most delightful sensations to run up and down her spine.

She had never done anything like this before – laying herself bare, taking charge of a carnal encounter – and inside, she was a quivering, terrified mess…

Yet, she felt safe in Vegeta’s arms, cherished and _needed,_ and she surrendered to her desires as she felt him move back, hastily pulling his own shirt off and over his head, so that he too stood exposed before her.

His muscles almost gleamed in the dimness of her room, the sparse light from the single lamp that she had left turned on beside her bed casting his body in mysterious shadows.

She looked down, marveling at the hard planes of his chest, the dips and angles of his tight abs, the amazingly defined cuts of his biceps; the scars that littered his torso, the long bandage that wove across a part of his chest, as well as the welts from the recent warehouse incident, did nothing to diminish his beauty. She reached down, reverently soothing her palms across the bronze surfaces, earning a soft growl from the man before her.

Bulma held his narrow waist in her hands, pulling herself flush against him, wanting to feel the warmth of his skin against hers, to mesh his powerful form with the plumpness of her breasts.

He held her tighter, threading his hands through her hair as he resumed kissing her, gathering the strands in a fist as he pulled at her hair, making her mewl in ever-rising _want._

His feet led hers, and she soon found them standing at the foot of her bed, his questing hands resting possessively on her hip, burning her through the thick material of her jeans.

Bulma stood back, feeling the bed bump into the backs of her knees.

With one hand, she reached for his, as she slowly sat down, staring determinedly into his eyes while she pushed back with her free arm, pulling her with him, until she laid back on the bed, her smaller body caged beneath the overwhelming power of his own.

He was staring at her, devouring her with his eyes as his chest heaved in anticipation, and she relaxed across the softness of the sheets as his hands roamed, grasping her waist while his thumb rubbed small circles beneath her breasts, over her thin bra.

Bulma reached a hand up to unhook the said garment, and it loosened about her chest, prompting Vegeta to raise a hand up to carefully push it off and away.  

She heard his breath hitch once the cool air of the room hit her breasts, the heat of his stare causing her nipples to tighten in anticipation while he stared unabashedly at her body. She felt her blood rush to her cheeks as she wondered, self-consciously, if he liked what he was seeing.

Vegeta moved a hand up, and gently cupped her bare breast, causing Bulma to moan softly in shocked pleasure, not believing the sensations he aroused from her with such a deceptively simple touch.

He moved his hand slowly, a finger moving to rub across the tip of her nipple, and she mewled, her hands grasping the sides of his thick arms as he continued his slow perusal of her form.

She was panting lightly when he leaned down, rubbing his nose against the side of her breast, before he moved up to plant a soft kiss on the firm peak.

Bulma gasped, her hands convulsively flying up to pull at the thick flames of his hair, and she closed her eyes tightly when his tongue began to lave a trail around the fullness of her chest, before finally suckling slowly, kissing her flesh with deep need.

She arched against him, a soundless cry leaving her lips as she breathed hard, pushing her breasts closer to him, needing to feel more, to be touched more deeply…

Vegeta braced himself with an elbow beside her head, carefully weaving through her hair that had now fanned wildly around her head. His free hand roamed, leaving trails of fire in the wake of his tickling fingers, until she felt him teasingly begin to pluck at the button of her shorts.

She could barely even react when she felt her bottoms loosen, and he sat up on his knees to stare into her eyes while his hands pulled gently, but impatiently, to divest her of her shorts and panties.

Bulma heard him growl low as he stared at her nude form, and she flustered as his eyes lingered at her core, as if he was mesmerized by the light blue curls that hid her from his gaze.

“Vegeta,” she managed a harsh rasp, but he barely glanced up at her as he moved down, his hand quickly palming at her womanhood.

“Oh!” she cried, her legs twitching at the contact, her thighs trembling with the need to close around his touch.

Vegeta held her still, his arms pushing her thighs down so she laid open before him, and she hissed in delight when she felt one of his fingers begin to slowly encircle her lower lips.

“Oh god,” she gasped as he seemingly played with her core, wetting his fingers with the moisture that had begun to seep from within her, to coat his hand and her inner thighs.

She whimpered when his finger began to move in, her hips desperately trying to follow him as he began to explore her.

Bulma sobbed, her hands reaching up to clench about her pillow, eyes flying closed as she felt his breath so, so close, to where the heat was already beginning to rage too hotly.

The feel of his soft tongue on her made her lurch up, a sharp cry spilling from her lips as she writhed, reaching for him with her hands, pulling strongly at his hair as Vegeta began to kiss her… devour her…

“Ah! Ah! Vegeta, please!” she cried out, overwhelmed by the pleasure as his tongue delved into her core, and it did not take long before she felt the euphoric little shock around her gut, pulsing within her center as he moved harder, kissed her there as he had earlier plundered her mouth.

She shook, crying out unintelligibly, when he suddenly reached up and pressed firmly at the button of her pleasure…

The world went white, and Bulma threw her head back, his name spilling spastically from her lips…

“Vegeta! Oh… hah!” she wheezed as her focus slowly returned, and she watched in awe when he stood, pushing his pants down past his hips…

Bulma stared at the beauty of his naked body, at the strong and powerful thighs that flexed fluidly as he crawled his way back up towards her, and the hard and thick manhood that now brushed softly against her lower stomach.

He grunted as he lowered himself onto her, leaning up to capture her lips once again, his hands reaching up to slowly pull her arms above her head, trapping both of her wrists in one of his large hands.

She sighed into his mouth as his tongue invaded hers once again, his breaths escaping harshly through his nose and fanning over her cheeks.

Bulma felt hot… so hot, all over; and he was also flushed lightly, a thin sheen of sweat covering his body and melding with the moisture of her own.

She felt Vegeta begin to move himself with her, rubbing himself sensuously against her stomach, and she gasped in euphoria as she felt him harden even more, and finally, she could take no more.

“Vegeta, please,” she gasped as she wrenched her lips away from his, needing his body so much, beyond anything she had ever wanted or needed in her entire life.

“Bulma,” he whispered, and she melted inside when he rested his cheek against her, nuzzling her before leaving fleeting kisses along her jaw, nipping gently on her ear.

“I need you,” she whimpered, “I need you, Vegeta. Please…”

His brow furrowed slightly in concern, and she understood what worried him before he could hesitantly ask. She smiled, before she leaned over to whisper, “Don’t worry about me. I am… safe.”

His eyes widened in understanding before he nodded, his forehead pressing onto her, before he leaned down, curving his back so he could drop a soft kiss on her puckered lips.

Her wrists were still in his grasp, and though she longed to touch him, she lay back as he held himself with his free hand, fully surrendering herself to his delicious touch.

As Vegeta poised upon her entrance, she felt him pin her thigh down with his hand as he began to enter her… slowly… so torturously slowly.

“Mmh! Ve-Vegeta,” she whimpered as he moved into her, deeper, his length stretching her in amazing ways that made light explode behind her lids, blurring her vision of the gorgeous man who was panting heavily above her.

“Bulma… Bulma,” he called, pressing her down into the mattress with his weight, and he groaned long and low as he carefully rolled his hips, delving deeper within her with agonizing gentleness.

She cried out in euphoria as he finally breached her, as his entire length finally rested deep inside her core, and she arched her body against him, eyes tearing up from the exquisite pain as he ground into her with a strangled groan.

He let go of her thigh, lifting his hand to tenderly stroke her cheek with the back of his fingers, as he pressed so close to her that Bulma swore that they had truly merged into one.

Finally, he released her wrists, and with a low moan, she wrapped her arms around him, splaying her hands across his wide back as he kissed her again, his lips almost clumsy in their fervor as he began to carefully pull out, then push back in.

She hissed as he groaned, his face pressed against the side of her neck as he laved her flesh with nips, licks and butterfly kisses.

Bulma was lost, unable to see anything beyond the unfathomable depths of his eyes, unable to hear anything over the roaring of her blood in her ears as she wrapped herself around him with her arms and legs, every inch of her clamoring, _needing,_ to stay close to Vegeta… to be with Vegeta…

He began to hasten his movements, and she cried out when her core began to tremble, when her entire body began to feel the tiny pin pricks of electricity that raced like lightning within her veins.

She felt his heart beating madly against her own, their sighs mingling as they breathed each other’s air, twined so tightly together that she could barely tell where he ended, and she began.

He was holding her so tightly, moaning desperately in her ear, feeding her desires through his kisses.

She felt him so deeply within her, his hips moving in such a way that he was rubbing against the nub of her desire, and she arched, shuddering in molten need…

It was building… climbing…

“I can’t… oh, Vegeta,” she begged, her hands tangling in his hair as she stared deep into his eyes, her mouth gaping open as she gasped for breath.

“Cum for me,” he growled, grabbing one of her hands and pinning it down onto the bed with his own, where he twined their fingers together as he moved ever frantically within her. “Cum _with_ me… Bulma.”

The sound of her name, spilling so wantonly from his lips, made something snap within Bulma, and she felt herself lose all control as she screamed, eyes clenched tight in rhapsody, her entire body clenching madly around Vegeta’s as she sobbed out broken fragments of his name, needing the skies themselves to hear her reverence for this one, beautiful man…

He gave a strangled shout, before she felt his entire body quake, flooding her with his want, his lust, and all the feelings that remained unsaid between them.

When he slumped down against her, she welcomed him into her embrace, leisurely running her hands upon his skin, loving the feel of him still deep within her while his chest heaved against hers.

And when later, he moved to take her into his arms and lay beside her on the bed, she could think of nothing else to do other than to curl tightly around him, luxuriating in the rioting emotions that still soared within her soul, refusing to think any further than what could possibly await them upon waking the following morning.

For tonight… Vegeta was _hers._

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8 (with art)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta and Bulma may have given in to their desires for a night, but things are far from perfect between them. As their search for the third Saiyan reaches a crescendo, they find themselves in the midst of a battle against not just the Syndicate, but against their rioting doubts and emotions.  
> The conclusion of Retribution: Book 1.

 

**Art by[theAsho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theAsh0/pseuds/theAsh0)**

 

 

**Art by[Smammwich](https://smammwich.tumblr.com/)**

 

 

8-8-8-8-8

 

The sun had not even come up yet, but Vegeta was already awake.

A part of him, however, refused to rise; he did not even wish to open his eyes.

He was surrounded in divine warmth, bathing in the most heavenly scent, and the sensation of _comfort_ that filled him was indescribable, like he was floating in the midst of a dream.

He knew that, should he rise, he will have to let go of the illusion, and face the bitterness of reality.

He was not ready. He did not think that he ever wanted to be.

But his life had always been cruel, and the soft tickling of strands of silk teased the tip of his nose, prompting his dark eyes to slowly blink the sleep away.

Blue… a serene sea of blue flooded his senses, and he tightened his arms around the warm body that lay snuggled against him, feeling the smooth, porcelain back that fit perfectly against his chest.

Spooned against him was the woman who had never left his heart, tethered tightly with his soul; the most beautiful fragment of his past…

Whom he could not, in good conscience, claim as part of his future.

He had nothing to offer her, beyond the name of a man presumed long-dead, and he knew that if he failed in his mission, keeping her with him would be like giving her a one-way ticket to the grave.

She was vivacious, intelligent and talented… she had a bright future waiting for her, but for her to be able to seize that promising life, she cannot afford to have him there to keep dragging her down.

Bulma was the light, while he was perpetually cast in shadows.

The mere fact that he had once tried to hate her, doubted her friendship and loyalties, made him disgustingly unworthy of her brilliance, of her care and affection.

He let his fingers idly wander across her soft abdomen, taking in deep, needy breaths of her hair while his hands tried to memorize her every curve, the supple roundness of her breasts and hips. His mind was screaming at him to pull away, but his heart fiercely rebelled, pushing his body to desperately press itself closer to her.

The sparse light seeping from the coated windows made him wince, and with one last, pained inhale, he resolutely began to pull back, extricating himself from the tangle of their limbs, leaving the tips of his fingers to twine with hers while he took his time turning away.

He laid on his side, facing away from her, his hand extended backwards while he hesitated, his brows furrowing as he contemplated the life that had taken her from him, only permitting him a taste of her sweetness before he had to force himself to let go once again.

Something in his heart felt like it was being tugged towards her, like a powerful, invisible thread that refused to yield, and he wished so much that he could stay with her and explore the clear connection, the overwhelming emotions that he had felt as he… as he… _made love_ to her, the night before.

Yet, his life was not just about him and her. He had a duty; to find his brothers, and avenge their fallen bloodline.

He needed to stay focused…

He needed to _get up_.

With a reluctant sigh, he finally released her fingers, carefully moving to swing his legs over the side of the bed so as not to disturb her. Getting up, he walked numbly over to the foot of the bed, where he found his discarded clothing, and he got dressed without daring to look back at her, lest he see her face and he lose his resolve all over again.

He could swear that he heard her breath catch, but knowing that she was still fast asleep, he turned to the door, his very soul trying to pull him back into her bed, into her bright smile and welcoming arms.

But he steeled himself, and with a deep frown of regret, he stepped outside, softly closing the door behind him.

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma valiantly held on to her sobs, until she heard the door close.

She had stirred awake when she felt Vegeta run his fingers up and down her stomach, gently cupping her breast before straying to clutch carefully at her hip.

She could hear his breaths, harshly stilted, as he pulled her as carefully as possible towards himself. She could feel his heart beating erratically against her back, could sense the yearning in his touch, but she knew from the way his touches screamed his rising desperation that his mind was drifting into a place that was too dark for her to follow.

When he finally pulled away from her, letting his touch linger on her outstretched hand, she tried to peer at him from the edges of her eyes, seeing his form shudder in his apparent indecision.

She felt his sorrow with each of his light footsteps, and she knew that Vegeta was trying to hold himself back from her, ignoring the undeniable pull of the red string of fate that had bound them to each other since before they could even understand what love truly was.

For she understood now; in this, her father had been right.

She shared a bond with Vegeta, an unbreakable bond-of-hearts, and she felt his need for her in the way he had moved with her, _in_ her, last night.

She wanted so badly to fight for him, but she knew that he would not succumb to their mutual feelings until he carried out his mission to unite his remaining family and destroy the power of the West City Syndicate.

And… what exactly _were_ those feelings?

She didn’t really want to think too much about that, either.

8-8-8-8-8

Vegeta left the hideout before she had even managed to emerge from her bedroom, walking gingerly on her feet as her body could still feel the pleasant soreness after their night together.

She waited for a chance to see him all day, but as midnight approached and she had still yet to see even a shadow of him, she began to worry, and she shyly approached Goku to ask.

“Oh, he and Piccolo are scoping out the location that he says you found from the diskette,” Goku said. “He was really happy today, Bulma. He was so amazed that you managed to find so much information, and he is so excited to find Raditz. I know he had been feeling really bad about the ways things had been going, before you found the coordinates.”

She blinked. “Really? I thought he was doing alright. Determined, even,” she said, feigning ignorance regarding Vegeta’s struggles.

“Well, he’s pretty tough, but I can see that he was upset,” Goku answered. “I’m just glad that he seems to have found some way to relax, because sometimes, he’d disappear for a while, then come back looking a bit more relieved.”

Bulma blushed lightly as she made a hesitant conclusion. She liked to think that, after every time that Vegeta had sought her out, he had grown calmer, more determined. Perhaps, she had helped him find his center, and it would mean a lot to her if that had been the case.

However, she was a bit miffed that Vegeta had gone out without even a word to her. She had felt the goodbye in his gentle touches that morning, but he had not faced her, had not dared to speak to her, after he had left her bed.

The main door opened and closed right then, and Goku turned to walk towards the main room, an excited grin on his face.

Bulma followed him, and she peered over Goku’s shoulder to come face to face with Vegeta, who was steadfastly refusing to meet her gaze.

She felt her heart break just a little, but she covered it up with a brave smirk as she asked, “How was your stake-out?”

Vegeta’s brows furrowed as he muttered, “It went well enough.”

Piccolo, who had been standing behind Vegeta, piped up, “We plan to return tomorrow. We have found a small village near the coordinates that you had derived, Bulma, and we shall see if anyone could possibly have any information.”

“That sounds great!” she said, before she grinned widely. “I’m coming with you!”

Vegeta, in his shock, looked up, meeting her stare with his wide, dark eyes.

“The-the hell you are,” he protested. “You are staying right here!”

She stomped her foot, glaring at him. “No! I wanna see this village!”

“Woman, that is the single most ridiculous-”

“Vegeta, listen,” she started. “I found those coordinates. I wanna see if this information really does lead to something. Besides, don’t you think it would be easier to glean information if you have a beautiful lady with you, instead of just you terrifying brutes?”

He scoffed, pulling rebelliously at the edges of his dark suit, his red tie swinging jauntily as he answered, “No one has ever refused me information. The suit does wonders, I will let you know.”

“Yes, but a girl can make even the most stubborn men talk,” she insisted. “Wasn’t Lapiz’s sister your intel girl? And why do you think she was so effective? Answer: Because she’s hot.”

“Bulma-”

“I am going with you, Vegeta!” she said. “I’d even wear a wig, if you want. I found a female wig in one of Lapiz’s cabinets, with curly green hair. I could use it as my disguise so we could be sure that people won’t recognize me.”

“Alright, first,” Piccolo interjected. “Why the fuck does Lapiz have a green female wig?”

Bulma, Goku and Vegeta shrugged.

“Secondly,” Piccolo continued, “Vegeta, she may be right. Besides, Briefs is a pretty smart girl. She may spot something that _we_ could miss. I think it could be a good idea.”

“The answer is no,” Vegeta gritted out, before he turned away, stomping back to the direction of his room. “And that is final!”

Shaking her head, Bulma sighed, before she squared her shoulder and headed after him.

“Vegeta!” she called, and he refused to turn even as she bounded after him, even after she grasped his arm and tried to make him face her way.

“Bulma, you are not going,” he hissed, and she could clearly imagine how he grit his teeth as he answered.

But she was not to be deterred. She wanted to be there, _needed_ to be there, to do more to help find Raditz. It was the least she could do, to make up for her father’s selfishness.

She took a deep breath, before she tried again. “Vegeta, stop.”

“Woman-” he started, his voice reflecting his annoyance, his impatience at her stubbornness.

Bulma straightened, planting her feet down, as she decided to change tactics.

“Is this because we fucked?” she demanded, hoping to get a rise out of him.

This, she did, as he stopped so suddenly that she almost slammed right into him, and when he spun around to face her, his entire face was flaming red.

“Wh-what?!” he almost yelled.

“Because if it is, you’re being ridiculous,” she said.

He turned even redder – Bulma didn’t think it was possible – before he snarled angrily, harshly shrugging her hold off of the sleeve of his suit.

“How could you even _ask_ such a thing?” he growled, to which, Bulma shrugged.

“Well, what did you want me to think?” she asked, and though she was still hurting from the earlier dismissal, from how he had stealthily left her alone like a dirty little secret that morning, she pulled herself up to her full height, acting the part of a nonchalant one-night stand. After all, if he could be so cold about it, then so could she.

“It has nothing to do with-”

“It would be stupidly stubborn of you to let it get in the way of what we are trying to achieve here,” she said, “because you know full well that I could be of tremendous help.”

“I am not just trying to be stubborn here,” he hissed, his fury turning his eyes into narrow slits below his thick brows. “It is dangerous!”

“Oh come on,” she said. “You will be right there. And in spite of whatever had happened between us last night, we both know that you are good at stealth and combat. You could easily keep me safe.”

“Bulma-”

“I am _going,_ Vegeta,” she insisted. Then, taking a deep breath to steel herself from the callousness of her next words, she went on. “Just because we had sex, doesn’t mean that you have to start treating me like some porcelain ornament. We need to see this thing through. And you _know_ that I could help.”

Bulma thought she saw a flash of hurt cross his eyes, but he quickly dashed it with his usual anger, snarling, “Fine. We leave by seven in the morning. Wear the fucking wig.”

She smiled, and she was about to thank him when he angrily turned away, viciously stomping all the way back to his bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind him as he entered.

Turning away, she was headed to her room when he suddenly opened the door again, and yelled, “Chaotzu! Stand guard over Briefs’ door, you useless mannequin!”

Bulma almost managed to stop herself from laughing. _Almost._

 8-8-8-8-8

North City was so different from West City that Vegeta could have sworn that he was on a different planet, entirely.

The trees were much taller, the houses squared and smaller, and the scent of the air was clean, as pure as the city was when compared to the complicated crimes and corruptions of West.

They had left the hideout at seven in the morning, as he had instructed, and he had almost been amused to find Bulma, standing outside her bedroom door a minute before seven, dressed in a red blouse that clashed wildly with her fake green hair.

The puffy, artificial strands were in round ringlets around her head, and she had looked so adorably ridiculous that Vegeta shook his head, almost forgetting that he was still rather irritated with her.

_“Is this because we fucked?”_

Her question had raised his hackles, and he was unable to believe how the woman had just so easily _cheapened_ their beautiful encounter with a few vulgar words.

Then again, was it truly within his rights to be offended? After all, was he not the one who had left her like a guilty thief, seeming like a man who had wanted nothing beyond a taste of her flesh?

He banished such thoughts as they neared the wooded area specified in the coordinates, to find a small gated community, full of very typical houses with low wooden fences. At the entrance to the town was what looked like a guard house, and as their black car neared, Piccolo, who was at the wheel, lowered the window to speak with the guard who had lowered the metal barrier gate as they approached.

“Hello there,” the man who stopped their car greeted. “I see you don’t have the car sticker for town residents. Are you here to visit?”

Piccolo nodded, before motioning his head over to Vegeta and Bulma, who sat primly in the back.

“Those two,” Piccolo said, “Are looking to purchase properties in this city. They have seen some ads about a couple of houses in this town that are for sale, and they would like to check them out.”

The guard nodded, his green eyes peering over Piccolo to regard the pair. Vegeta felt his brow furrow when the guard looked at him for half a second too long, before he spoke again. “Well, have you been in touch with the house owners? I need to notify them that you are coming, and we need to log your plate numbers in.”

Though they had found out that there were houses on sale while they did research on the small town, they had not spoken to the owners of the houses, not having anticipated the security.

They had not wanted to get in contact with anyone so as to avoid rousing any suspicion, but now his stupid lapse in judgment would -

“Oh, is that so?” Bulma suddenly piped up, addressing the guard, surprising Vegeta when she leaned over to squeeze his arm. Her red blouse dipped low over her chest, and she moved in such a way as to attract attention to the tops of her pale breasts.

He growled in irritation as the woman batted her lashes at the guard, who now stood flustered at the window.

“Yes maam, it is our standard procedure,” the guard said, rather dumbly, as his eyes raked over Bulma’s body.

“We didn’t actually have a chance to get in touch with them because we just found the ads while we were on the way to leave the city proper,” Bulma answered. “We had come a long way from the highway, and would absolutely _hate_ to not be able to see the houses, this is such a lovely town.”

The guard blinked, while Vegeta turned his attention away from Bulma, training his eyes on Piccolo, whose stern shoulders were vibrating ever so slightly with concealed laughter.

“Well, maybe I can just have your name, maam, and I will just log you in as a visitor,” the guard said.

He heard Bulma giggle as she answered, “Kale. Kale Ouji.”

The guard nodded once, before he turned back around to lift the barrier gate to let them in.

“Well, I hope you all have a nice visit, Ms. Ouji,” he said, “And I sure hope that you all would decide to move into this town!”

“Thank you so much!” Bulma said enthusiastically to the guard, who gave them a small salute as they drove past.

After they were clear, Vegeta snarled, “What the fuck was that?”

Bulma blinked. “What? We got in, didn’t we?”

“Such vulgar behavior,” he hissed. After all, did she _really_ have to practically flash her damn breasts at the man?!

“Oh lighten up,” Bulma said. “Just think about the fact that we are _in!”_

Vegeta huffed, pulling his arm away from her to cross both arms against his chest.

He heard her giggle, and Piccolo snickered, but he pointedly ignored them, instead checking their itinerary for the day.

The first place they were supposed to check out was the school within the town proper. After all, if Raditz had lived in that town, then there would be recollections of him, and Vegeta mused that his brother probably looked enough like himself so that he could be used as comparison.

Perhaps some teachers or staff members would be able to see his resemblance to one of the previous students, as Raditz was young enough to have only been out of high school for a few years.

Determined, almost shaking in anticipation, he sat back as Piccolo drove to the school grounds.

8-8-8-8-8

The guard smirked slightly as he turned away from the car that had entered their small town.

It was an absolutely strange thing, to see the face of the deceased Vegeta Saiyan Sr. on a living man. His own father had once worked with Saiyan, and he had seen their pictures many times as he grew up.

His father may have died some years ago, but his connections to the Syndicate had not.

He closed the guard house, picked up his phone, and made a call.

8-8-8-8-8

The school was a rather small compound, for a place that housed students from Kindergarten to Senior High.

Vegeta looked around, taking notice of the kids rushing to and fro, and he remembered the days before his life had been turned around; when he had also just been a young student, worrying about nothing more complicated than his math class and what to eat for recess.

He walked alongside Bulma, and he hummed in approval when he peered at her and noted that she had pulled her blouse up so that it covered up her bosoms, _as it should._

They were walking towards the registrar’s office when a short man with a small black cap on top of his mostly bald, round head caught Vegeta’s attention. The man was staring, squinting at Vegeta, and though this would normally make him paranoid, this time, he straightened, wondering if perhaps he seemed… _familiar_ to the man.

Vegeta’s heart thumped nervously at the realization that if the man recognized him, then surely it was not _him_ that he recognized, but someone who looked very similar…

He could know Raditz!

He paused, clutching Bulma’s elbow as he stared back at the man who had yet to take his eyes off him.

“Vegeta?” Bulma whispered, “What’s wrong?”

He gave her a gentle tug, steering her slowly towards the man whose thoughtful frown had begun to grow into a hesitant smile.

Vegeta smiled back, a small grin that tugged at the edges of his lips, as he bowed low towards the older man.

“Good morning, sir,” Vegeta said, using his practiced politeness on the now-smiling man.

Bulma seemed amused, as he watched her quirk a brow at him before she too smiled at the elder.

“Good morning,” the man said. “Do forgive me for staring, but something about you seemed rather familiar.”

Vegeta’s heart stuttered, before it resumed to pound madly within his chest.

“Do I?” Vegeta asked. Then, thinking fast, he asked, “Perhaps you had known one of my relatives? I have several who have been living around these parts of North City. ”

He figured that perhaps the little lie would help prod the man’s memory a little more.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he ignored it, as he continued to smile at the older man, hope making his very knees grow weak, and he held a little more tightly onto Bulma, the warmth of her touch calming him, the way it seemed to have always done.

He felt her tug her arm away, and his heart dropped, the absence of her touch making his nerves creep menacingly up his spine… only to almost sigh with relief when she moved to snake her hand into his, twining their fingers, her smooth palm putting his entire body and soul at ease.

He waited with baited breath as the man frowned slightly, before his eyes brightened, a smile making his whole face seem even rounder.

“I remember! Little Roddy!” he exclaimed. “Your resemblance is uncanny. Even the hair is so similar!”

The confirmation – however vague – that this man had known his brother, floored him, and Vegeta stared with wide eyes, telling himself to calm down and _think,_ but all he could do was swallow painfully, gaping dumbly, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

Bulma stepped forward, her smile as bright as the sun, and when she moved, he felt her heart pounding as loudly as his when she pressed her chest against his arm.

She was clearly overwhelmed too, but she stood there, acting as his pillar, when his own rarely-shown emotions seemed to drown him in his disbelief.

“You know Roddy?” Bulma asked _for_ him, and he watched the old man nod vigorously.

“Of course, though it has been more than a decade ago since he was my student, so it took me a while,” the man said, holding a hand out to Bulma. “I am Mr. Kai, by the way.”

“Mr. Kai, I am Kale Ouji, and this is my husband, Cabba,” she introduced, and he had to vaguely wonder where she even got such ridiculous names. “Cabba is Roddy’s mother’s nephew.”

“Ah yes, sweet Mrs. Arlia,” Mr. Kai mused, a happy smile on his face while a hand rested on his round stomach. “The Arlians were very nice. How are they, by the way?”

Vegeta felt his excitement swell. A name... They had a name to search for now!

Roddy Arlia… This boy could possibly – no, was _definitely,_ Raditz!

His phone began to vibrate again, but he stuck his hand into his pocket to click on the side buttons and cancel the call. He was busy, dammit!

“We have not really been in touch with them lately,” Vegeta said. “Would you happen to know anything about them?”

Mr. Kai scratched his chin. “Well, not really. I have not heard anything about them since they moved out of this town many years ago.”

Vegeta’s heart sank. _Moved out?_

He kept his smile in place, pretending to be unsurprised, while he felt Bulma’s grasp on his hand tighten.

“Babe,” Bulma called, and he turned grateful eyes to her when he realized that the gears were turning rapidly in her mind as she tried to come up with something to say. “I think we need to go.”

Mr. Kai looked questioningly at Bulma. “Already? Were you not heading somewhere within the school?”

“Yes, but I think I may have left my _phone,”_ she said, slyly patting his pocket where his phone had begun to vibrate again, “in the car.”

“Ah, did you?” he played along, before turning to Mr. Kai, “Thank you so much for your time, Mr. Kai.”

Bulma beamed at the old man. “Yes, thank you, so very much. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

The two made their way down the hall, back the way they came, but before reaching the front door, Vegeta pulled Bulma with him, dragging the both into a nearby awning that shielded them from the outside.

His phone was vibrating again, and he picked it up, seeing Piccolo’s name flash through the screen.

“Piccolo?” he called as soon as he answered.

“Stay down,” Piccolo said, his voice nervous, shaky. “Stay inside, or leave through the back. Do not go through the front gates.”

“What is the situation?” he asked, and he turned in time to see Bulma’s brows furrow low in question.

“Five cars,” the other man answered. “I have counted five cars, circling the school. Vegeta, we’re in trouble.”

“I will go with Bulma, through the back exit,” he said, having earlier noticed another entryway as they approached the school in their car. “What about you?”

“I have abandoned the car,” he said, “and I can go to the wooded area to the east of the school. Can you make it there?”

“Yes, we can,” Vegeta answered, hastily cutting the call before spitting out a curse.

“What happened?” Bulma asked him, a hand on his arm as her wide eyes bore into him. “Are we in danger?”

“Yes,” he nodded, taking her hand before striding back into the school building, looking for another way out.

“How? Is it Frieza?”

He nodded again, tensely, as he moved faster, jogging lightly, and his free hand reached into the pockets of his coat to grasp his gun.

Bulma was starting to pant lightly, the fear apparent in her steps and the stiffness of her arm, blue eyes erratically darting around as they quickly made their way to the back exit.

He led her into the thick foliage behind the school, pushing leaves out of the way as they ran, Bulma tripping lightly over her feet while he cast his eyes every which way, watching out for enemies that could be hiding behind the trees, ready to strike him down. 

It seemed that they were finally home free, when the sight of a few cars parked just beyond the treeline made him stop abruptly.

“Vegeta! Do you see something?” Bulma whispered, and he simply nodded, changing their course.

However, it appeared that the men had summarily surrounded the woods, caging them in, and Vegeta tried hard to think of a way to escape, a way to move past the men who all carried weapons in their hands.

He cannot risk a gunfight, not with Bulma standing in the line of fire.

He kept running, dodging along with her for what seemed like hours, but every way they turned, they found someone standing guard.

They were so close… he cannot fail now!

Bulma suddenly gasped softly, and he stopped when he felt her frantically tug at his hand.

“Frieza,” she mouthed, and he nearly rolled his eyes.

“Of course!”

“No, I mean, I’m sure. I know some of these guys!” Bulma said, and he straightened, worried about having been spotted.

“We need to get out of here-” he started, but Bulma cut him off with a firm hand on the center of his chest.

“No, Vegeta,” she said. “ _You_ need to get out.”

He stared at her, mouth agape in shock. “What?”

“You need to get out,” Bulma said, and he watched in stunned confusion as she released her hair from the wig, letting the blue waves emerge from beneath the thick green curls.

He growled, “What are you talking about? _We_ will get out!”

“Vegeta, listen to me,” she said, handing him the green wig while she dug into her pocket. “I know these men. They will just take me back to West, but they will not hurt me. But they _will_ hurt _you.”_

It was only then that he understood exactly what she was suggesting, and he furiously shook his head, a hand clenching around his gun while the other flew up to grasp Bulma, stilling her movements.

“Are you suggesting that I leave you here as a diversion?” he asked. “Are you insane?”

“No, because as far as these men are concerned, you kidnapped me, and I am still _loyal_ to the Syndicate,” she said. “You need to get away. I will distract them.”

“Out of the question,” he hissed. “We leave, together.”

“Either only one of us leaves, or we both die,” Bulma snapped. “I suggest you go on. I will be fine.”

“Bulma-”

“Listen to me,” she hissed, grabbing his hand, and he glared as she plucked his fingers open to drop her space pod keychain and flash drive into his palm. “Take this drive, and give it to Lapiz. This holds the codes that we need once Chichi plants the worms into the Oasis. Lapiz knows how to use these files, in case I don’t make it back to you in time. As for me, don’t worry; I _will_ be fine. But _you_ need to survive to find Raditz.”

He looked at her in rising desperation, especially as his ears picked up the sound of approaching footsteps in the distance. “Bulma, I can’t let you-”

His words were halted, when she suddenly leaned up, braced her hands on his shoulders, and planted her lips onto his in a roughly passionate kiss.

She pulled away after mere seconds, breathless, with too-bright eyes.

“Go,” she said. “You need to find Raditz. You need to take down the Syndicate. And to do those things, you must stay alive, regroup with your team.”

His heart was madly screaming at him to reject the idea, even while a part of him, the strategist who had stayed alive after decades of hiding in the shadows, agreed with her.

“Bulma…”

“I will come back to you,” she said. “I promise.”

Before he could think to stop her again, she took off at top speed, and Vegeta helplessly stared after her as she ran, waving her arms to catch the attention of the men pursuing them.

Hating himself for the cowardly act, he hid behind a tree as he heard Bulma yell for help, watching silently as she ran up to a large man with short hair, who turned towards her in surprise.

He heard them talking, and he listened as Bulma started yelling about how she had gotten away, watched as a torrent of fake tears began running down her face as she completely sold them a story about how she had taken off as Vegeta was trying to outrun them all.

She was pointing them in another direction, screaming about how he and Piccolo had stolen a green car and were probably leaving the town as they spoke, and all the men began to run off to their vehicles to commence pursuit.

She does not glance back his way as she leaves with the men, and with every step she took that led her farther away from him, he could feel his heart bleed just a little bit more.

He clutched the little space pod toy tightly in his fist, before he angrily stuck it into the pocket of his suit.

He bit his tongue against doing anything stupid, knowing that if he dared show himself, he was as good as dead. He was bitterly outnumbered, and he was not fool enough to throw his life away when they were all so close to their goals.

He needed to believe in Bulma, to believe that she will be unharmed. He needed to trust her word, that she will come back to him, as she had promised.

When Bulma and the men were finally gone, he stepped away from his hiding spot, and easily found Piccolo, who, true to his word, had been waiting for him at the agreed-upon area.

He tersely recounted the events in the woods to Piccolo, who had simply shaken his head, before he led them out to a secondary white vehicle that stood just beyond the cover of trees.

It was a quiet trip back to the hideout, and Vegeta was unable to hide his distress, worry for Bulma eating at his every cell, warring with what was supposed to be the happy news of being so much closer to finding his brother.

And as luck would have it…

When they arrived at the hideout, Vegeta immediately gave the name that Raditz had supposedly been using when he was last seen.

That precious lead had cost him Bulma, and he was desperate to have the lead be a good one. A truly solid one.

Lapiz did a short search on the name, and Vegeta watched in consternation, his heart dropping to his feet as Lapiz turned grim, before showing him the article that had been found…

On a short news clip from nearly fifteen years ago, he saw the names _James and Mary Arlia, l_ isted as parents looking for a missing child… a son, whose name was _Roderick Arlia._

As Vegeta and his crew tried desperately to find more information, it soon became clear…

Roderick Arlia, was never found.

8-8-8-8-8

 

**_End of Book 1._ **

_To be continued in Retribution: Book 2._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to all of you who have read, left a kudos, and commented on this story! My very first Big Bang fic is done! However, as mentioned, this story is not over, and will be continued in Retribution: Book 2.  
> Also, special thanks to the following:  
> [BlackSheep115](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackSheep115/) for the amazing beta work and pep talk while I was struggling through writing this fic. Girl, you are amazing and I love you!  
> Jadefyre, Rockykelboa for their patience with my never-ending questions (and whining, sometimes), and the rest of the people over at the [Vegebulocracy Discord](https://discord.gg/GzvkceX). Anyone who is a Vegebul fan, you neeeed to join this group, it has so many amazing people in it and you will love it.  
> And of course, my Big Bang artist partners [Ash0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theAsh0/) and [Smammwich](https://smammwich.tumblr.com/), who both made [ incredible](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17065409) [cover art](https://smammwich.tumblr.com/post/181390746446/sorry-i-havent-been-active-guys-i-hardly-ever) for this story.  
> Thanks again, and I do hope you enjoyed this story. Happy Holidays to all!


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